


Other Side of the Lens

by MrRhapsodist



Series: The Punk, The Hippie, and The Church Girl [3]
Category: Alice Isn't Dead (Podcast), Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives Except Rachel, Dreams and Nightmares, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Photography, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Praxis Industries, Romance, Time Travel, pricemarshfield
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 03:29:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 35,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11935386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrRhapsodist/pseuds/MrRhapsodist
Summary: Max has always trusted her photography. She’s learned to trust her feelings about Kate and Chloe. Now she finds out she has a power that can shatter her trust in both those things. But if she tests this new ability, will she make everything better? Or worse than ever?





	1. Headlines

**Author's Note:**

> I finally figured out a way to wrap up this series (and I knew I couldn't resist one last tease for the "Alice Isn't Dead" fandom). Furthermore, this work is going to be practice for my NaNoWriMo entry this November, so expect a ton of updates within a month!

She woke up to thunder rumbling in her ears and in her gut, and it took all of her willpower not to throw up. The dirt was soft under her fingers as she scrambled for purchase, and when she tried to open her eyes, everything went into a gray blur, punctuated by flashes of white before thunder cracked the air again.

Max Caulfield sat up in the middle of the storm.

She knew these woods. Already, Max was looking for the ancient trail that wound up the hill, that would lead her straight to the lighthouse. Max groaned and checked her nose. No blood there. Thank Heaven for small miracles. With another squeal, she pushed herself to her knees, and then to her feet. Wobbling, Max took a step forward. Her next step sent her tumbling, and she grabbed for the nearest tree to steady herself.

 _Take it easy,_ Max told herself. _You... you can do this! Just a little farther..._

Her sneakers squelched through the muddy road. Max kept clinging onto logs and tree branches as she made her ascent. The rain and the wind picked up inch by inch, battering her this way and that, and her teeth chattered when her soaked clothes pricked her skin. But Max ignored the sensation.

She only saw the rotating light of the tower.

No need to look below. Below the cliffs were danger. Beyond the cliff’s edge was the storm. It wasn’t real. Max kept telling herself that. The storm wasn’t possible in this world. Not in this timeline. Rachel Amber had told her that. Or some version of Rachel anyway. Max searched for the ghostly deer amidst the wreckage at the summit of the hill. All she found was the shredded banner from some Vortex Club party, and a half-smashed boat that had struck off the top of the lighthouse.

Somehow, she’d missed the impact. Strange. She’d never missed it in the other dreams.

Max tried to reach the bench, so perilously close to the edge. Not that the bench mattered, but she saw the newspaper caught on its wooden slats. She had to get that paper and read the date. She knew how this worked now. There was always a catch. Always a catch, and she’d find it as easily as reading the front page.

This time, Max’s fingers had barely grasped the edge of the wet paper before it could fly off in a fresh gale. She ignored the howling, twisting storm heading across the Bay. Her eyes focused only on the dripping black print of the first headline she found.

_The Power Is Yours, Max._

Max shook her head. “This can’t be right...”

She flipped to the next page.

_Don’t Ignore Me, Max._

Flip. One more page left.

_Your Journey Isn’t Finished, Caulfield._

Max didn’t bother answering. Her fingers had gone numb from the cold, and she let the crumpled sheets sail off into the unrelenting wind.

Beneath her feet, the cliff groaned. This part, she remembered. Max didn’t try to fight it. She closed her eyes. Her heart thundered in her chest and in her ears. She didn’t feel the rain anymore. She didn’t feel the cliff face rushing past her, or the sharp rocks cutting her into pieces below, or the sea swallowing what was left.

Max fell forever.

* * *

Sweating, gasping, Max jolted upright. She yanked off the sheets from her body, and she stumbled out her side of the bed. In the dark, she failed to notice the nightstand, and Max clipped her knee on a corner. She cursed, but she muffled it in her throat. For a moment, Max did nothing but stand awkwardly in her underwear, breathing in and out and waiting for the nightmare to continue.

Nothing happened. Max breathed a sigh of relief.

She looked over at the other two women lying in the bed. At _her_ two women. Chloe Price lay on her side, with one hand rakishly tucked under her head, fingers curled into her strawberry-blonde hair. The neon blue streak in her hair shone through the gloom. On the other side of the bed, Kate Marsh was curled up against Chloe’s chest. Her long golden hair unfurled like the banner Max saw in her dream, but there was nothing tattered about it. She looked so peaceful that Max didn’t want to move for fear of waking her up.

With cautious steps, Max made her way into the bathroom. A flick of the switch on the wall unleashed the light from three bulbs over the bathroom mirror that made Max flinch against the glare. Like seeing lightning flash around her again. She closed the door behind her and went to use the toilet.

After washing her hands, she risked a glance up at her reflection in the mirror. A red-eyed girl with freckles and bags under her eyes stared back at her. Max breathed out a long sigh. She didn’t know this girl. Rachel’s ghost had shown her a girl like this in the bathroom of a gas station somewhere in California. A vision of herself from a time that she’d never experience.

 _You’ve won,_ Rachel had told her. _You get Chloe. You get Kate. You get justice, and you get peace._

Max didn’t know what that meant. Nothing about tonight seemed peaceful in the slightest.

She splashed cold water on her face and tried to shake away the bad memories. It was getting harder to tell apart the dreams from the memories. Too surreal either way. Max didn’t pay as much attention in her photography classes at Bay City College. Whenever Mr. West ended his lecture, she’d look over her notes and realize that she’d been sketching in the margins. Butterflies, caricatures of her classmates, and on one occasion, a beautiful landscape of broken cars and wilting flowers. It didn’t seem out of place considering their latest class topic was Surrealist photography from the Twenties.

Max didn’t need a lecture on that subject. Lately, she felt like she’d been living it out.

* * *

In the kitchen of their tiny apartment, she found solace in a glass of water. Perched on a stool, Max stared into the smooth black surface of the countertop. If she squinted hard enough, she could almost see her reflection. It probably looked a lot better than the face she’d seen in the mirror.

Max wanted to be alone with her thoughts. Instead, her ears perked up at the gentle footsteps on the carpet behind her. She said nothing when a pair of delicate arms encircled her waist, and a tiny chin poked her shoulder.

“You have immaculate timing,” Max remarked.

Behind her, Kate laughed. “And your moods are worse than Chloe’s.”

“They didn’t used to be.”

“I know. Want to talk about it?”

Max hesitated. She took a sip of water to soothe her throat.

“It was just a dream,” she answered.

Kate prodded her with her chin again. “You’re sure?”

“Positive.” Max dropped one hand beneath the counter. She stroked Kate’s wrist and smiled when those arms tightened around her belly. Kate didn’t have a single aggressive bone in her body. Her hugs were so soft and life-affirming that Max and Chloe were convinced they could cure cancer. If only they knew how to bottle and sell them.

Kate didn’t respond. She held onto Max for a long time. Max closed her eyes and let the silence take over for them.

Time passed. When she opened her eyes again and checked the clock on the stove, Max saw that she’d done nothing for the better part of two minutes. She smiled again, and she gave Kate’s hand another loving pat.

“Feel better?” Kate asked.

“Much better, thanks.” Max pushed away her glass. Turning around, she got off the stool and grabbed Kate’s hand. “Sorry if I worried you.”

“Max, you don’t have to apologize.” Kate’s warm smile made Max’s stomach buzz. “At least, not to me.”

“It really was just a dream.”

“Like last week?”

“Well...”

“And the week before that?”

Heat rose in Max’s cheeks. She heard thunder rumble in the distance. “Have I... has it been that predictable?”

Kate nodded. “I haven’t told Chloe about the last three. I...” She blushed. “Well, I didn’t want her to worry either.”

Max shot her a teasing grin. “Oh, but it’s okay if _you_ worry about me all the time?”

“Something like that, yeah.” The defiant smile that Kate wore gave Max pause. She took a step back, but her hand never once let go of her girlfriend. Most days, she forgot about this side of the sweet Christian girl. Every now and then, when the chips were down, she saw the fierce survivor. The unwavering friend and lover. And Max knew she loved that side of Kate most of all, even beyond her loving-kindness.

Max lifted her other hand to Kate’s face. She brushed away some of the hair that covered up her cheek, and then Max leaned in to kiss it. Kate sighed and squeezed Max’s hand.

“How did I get so lucky?” Max asked out loud.

Kate shook her head. “Hey, that’s my line.”

“Let’s agree that it goes both ways. I saved you, and you saved me.”

The other girl’s bottom lip trembled. Just for a second. “Then I’m making up for all the time you gave me. Talking me back from the brink.”

Max didn’t have to say a word. She tried very hard not to picture the edge of the dormitory roof, where she’d seen a rain-soaked Kate jump. Another timeline that didn’t exist, but the scary part was how close it had come to pass in their reality. Max hung her head and leaned into her girlfriend’s shoulder.

“Come on,” said Kate, tugging her out of the kitchen. “Let’s go back to bed.”

Max didn’t answer. She let Kate lead the way, turning off the lights in the apartment as they went. In the dark, it was a little scary walking around, but the warm pressure from Kate’s hand carried Max all the way back into their bed. She let Kate tuck her in on the left side, and Max pressed herself into Chloe’s back. Nothing they did could wake their sleeping giant of a girlfriend. Once she heard Kate settle in, Max felt her eyes drift shut.

She forgot all about the lighthouse, but in her dreams, thunder still cracked the skies.

* * *

“Max? Are you even listening to me?”

Blinking, Max sat up in her chair. She brushed a hand over her forehead. “Sorry! Sorry. Zoned out for a sec.” She flashed the person on her laptop screen an apologetic grin. “Ugh. Long night for me.”

On the other end of the Skype call, Victoria Chase flashed a snide grin. “Little Miss Hipster too busy looking up vintage cameras to buy?”

“And rolls of film, naturally.” Max wagged her finger. “You can’t seduce me to the dark side of digital just yet.”

Victoria pressed her lips together, restraining a sigh. “Oh my _God,_ you are so obvious...”

Both girls sat in their apartments, one in Bay City, and the other in Seattle. Victoria looked about the same as when Max had last seen her at Blackwell Academy. It had been almost two years since then. Two years since Max and Kate had moved out to join Chloe at college, which surprised Victoria, but she’d offered a compliment about Max’s growing photography portfolio before they left. It was as close to friendly as they ever got. But in the time since, Max had discovered that emails, texts, and Skype calls were a better way to get to know the once-vicious Queen Bee of Blackwell. When they talked shop about photography, or the merits of Man Ray versus Richard Avedon, they could almost stand each other.

At the very least, they could respect each other.

“Look, I know you think you’re not ‘ready’ or whatever,” Victoria continued, “but at least consider sending in something. I think the gallery might take an interest.”

“And why’s that?” Max leaned in, her grin widening. “It wouldn’t be because your parents own the gallery, would it?”

“The Chase Space takes in _all_ kinds of talent, Max Caulfield. Even yours.”

“And yours, too!”

Victoria blushed. It was such a rare sight that Max almost thought something was wrong with her screen. “Not everything...” Her voice trailed off, and within a second, she was back to her trademark glare. “They made their policy clear, okay? I don’t get special treatment. I’ve got to _earn_ a spot on their walls. And the same goes for you, too.”

“I get it, Victoria.” Max settled back into her chair. Her hand drifted over the desk and fiddled with a pen that she’d been using earlier to brainstorm photography ideas. Subjects, composition, lighting—all the usual arrangements. “I’ll try to earn it, too.”

Victoria’s glare softened. “Don’t sell yourself short either, Max. You can do this. You...” She grimaced. “You have a talent.”

Max tilted her head and examined her screen. “Geez. How much did it hurt you to say that?”

“Not as much as I’ll hurt you if you keep wasting time in that hick town.”

“Message received.” Max offered a mock salute. “Give me a week, at least. I might have something for you by Friday.”

The glare melted from Victoria’s face, leaving behind small brown eyes and a thin line that might have been a smile. “Glad to hear it. So, wanna do this same time next week?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Good.” Victoria reached for the drop-call button on her end. “ _Au revoir, cherie._ ”

With its trademark blip sound, the Skype call ended. Max closed her laptop and leaned back in her chair. She tilted it far enough back that she was precariously balanced on its two rear legs. Not for the last time, she wondered if she’d tilt back too far and smack her head right into a concussion. Kate had fretted over that exact scenario enough times. Chloe had only insisted that she and Max have a contest over who could go the farthest back without falling.

Max glanced around the bedroom. Her eyes caught a photograph on the wall, one of several dozen in the collection she’d dubbed the “New Max Caulfield Memorial Wall.” Every photo showed her somewhere with Kate and Chloe. Road trips to Portland and Los Angeles. Candid snapshots of the girls in bed, at the dinner table, walking hand-in-hand in a park late at night. Every precious moment they’d had was cataloged on the wall, printed out in vintage Polaroid film and held in place with double-stick tape.

Somewhere in this group were a few good photos.

Victoria had been right, in a way. She knew Max’s style. What worked and what needed improvement, if any. But looking over the collage, Max didn’t see a single picture that she wanted to lose. She saw a story that belonged to her and her girlfriends. She didn’t see a story worth giving to the public.

Maybe, she decided, it was time to change that attitude.

* * *

When they read the headline two days later, their whooping and cheers filled the apartment that morning. Max couldn’t breathe because Chloe was twirling her around in her arms, and Kate was whispering encouragement into her ear. Max nuzzled Chloe’s neck, only bothering to peek out and read over the headline on _USA Today._

_Supreme Court strikes down bans on same-sex marriage_

“About damn time!” Chloe declared. She planted a kiss on Max’s lips and pulled back with a shit-eating grin. “Bet you feel stupid not popping the question sooner, huh?”

“Chloe, you popped the question, like, every other month!”

“Pfft. Only twelve times. But who’s counting?”

Kate’s hands fell on Max’s shoulders, and she leaned in to steal a kiss of her own. “I’m so happy. I just... I never thought this day would actually come.”

Max’s heart fell. She heard the hitch in Kate’s voice, and she touched the girl’s cheek. “Kate, you know that even if we do tie the knot, Chloe and I are never leaving you, right? We’re just as bonded to you.”

“Hella yeah,” Chloe insisted. She let go of Max long enough to yank Kate up into her arms and held her close. Kate whimpered, but Chloe pushed her head into her shoulder and stroked the girl’s neatly-kept hair bun. “So what if poly love isn’t vogue yet? This changes nothing between us, bunny. And if _Oberyn v. Hodges_ can—”

“ _Obergefell,_ ” Max corrected her.

“Fuckin’ whatever, Max. If _Old MacDonald v. Hodges_ means anything, it’s that love wins over all, forever and ever.” Chloe squeezed Kate as hard as she could. “So don’t listen to the scary pastor in your head, Katie Kat. You’re still stuck with us, even when I’m stealing Max off to Vegas.”

“Chloe...”

“C’mon, Max! You know an Elvis impersonator can marry us, right?”

Max shook her head, but she was still smiling. In the mid-morning light of their kitchen, how could Chloe’s devious grin not look gorgeous? The same went for Kate’s closed eyes and peaceful smile, with her head nestled on the taller woman’s shoulder.

Even now, it was still hard for Max to think of Chloe as a woman. Or herself, for that matter. She had to fight the image of Chloe with longer hair and a younger face. That kid who came up with make-believe adventures at the drop of a hat, who goaded Max into building pirate forts and jumping off swing sets and stealing sips of wine when their parents weren’t around. But now they had a life together with Kate. They worked part-time jobs, paid taxes, went to college, and scrounged up the money for rent.

And now they were talking about marriage, when a year ago it didn’t seem possible.

Once more, thunder rumbled in Max’s ears, drowning out the gentle laughter between Kate and Chloe. She tried to imagine where life would go from here. She couldn’t begin to imagine where things would go. Never would she have guessed that her life would lead her into a poly romance with her best friend and her Christian classmate. Or that her photography teacher and idol would turn out to be a twisted sexual predator.

 _Or,_ Max thought, _that I’d ever be friends with Victoria Chase._

Thinking back to their last Skype chat, Max froze. Inspiration burst in her brain like a Roman candle, and she almost fell flat on her butt, if not for a last-minute grab of the nearby sofa. The sudden jolt got Chloe and Kate’s attention, and they rushed to flank her on either side.

“Max?” Kate nudged her shoulder. “Max, what is it?”

“I...” Max cleared her throat. She waved off Chloe’s bone-shattering grip and tried to stand again. Leaning into Kate, she found herself smiling. Her gaze landed on the laptop across the room, where the news headline and the photo of the Supreme Court were still on prominent display.

“I think,” she said softly, “I just got an idea for my next art project. And I want the two of you to be a part of it.”


	2. Black and White

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While trusting in her girlfriends, Max still wrestles with her inner doubts and fears. A chance to take a new photo for a gallery reveals a dangerous new path.

Sitting in the chair wasn’t difficult. The hard part for Max was sitting in the chair—well, lounging in it—for the better part of half an hour. Across the living room, Kate sat on the couch with her sketch pad out and her pencil tracing out soft lines and shading in the rest. Of course, Max loved watching Kate at work. But sitting on her own, with no TV and no Internet to distract her, soon became an excruciating tedium. Max couldn’t even turn to glance out the window and people-watch the pedestrian traffic outside their apartment. The soft afternoon light was still coming in strong, and Kate refused to waste a minute.

So, again, Max stayed more or less perfectly still, her eyes focused on nothing for long. She watched Kate’s hand dance behind the sketch pad, and a tiny cruel part of her wanted to sneak over and jump Kate for a peek at the unfinished work. But listening to Kate hum to herself while she worked kept Max in her seat.

In any case, Max had seen how worked up Kate could get about her art. One unthinking comment by Chloe had proven to them once and for all that their girlfriend had a fury like nothing they’d imagined.

Max sighed. “Sorry to be a pain, but...”

“It’s fine,” Kate called back. The top of her hair bobbed in and out of view behind the sketch pad. “I’m... I’m almost done here... I think...”

“You think?”

“Sorry, Max.” Kate’s pencil paused just enough for the girl to lift her head and shoot an embarrassed smile. “I might have spent a little too long on your freckles.”

“Oh. Well, I mean...” Now it was Max’s turn to blush. “Well, I guess I can live with that.”

“Just another minute, I promise.”

“It’s fine, Kate.” Max leaned her head back and blew out a sigh. She stared at the blank white ceiling. Her eyes began to trace patterns of her own. A bit of a curve here, a smudge there, and maybe some water damage, but she prayed she was wrong about that. Max began to imagine a landscape with several dozen characters having a battle or an adventure on the canvas of the ceiling. Like the little critter heroes in one of Kate’s children’s books.

Max glanced down. She stared at her right hand. To her surprise, it had begun to tremble. She willed her fingers to flex open, and then shut. After a few repeats, she got her hand back under control.

A nurse at the local clinic had said it was nothing to worry about when Max had asked a week before. _Just stress, dear,_ she’d insisted, _and that’s very common for girls your age._

But Rachel’s words from the previous year came to mind. She’d told Max she had a power, all bound inside her head and channeled through her right hand. In the visions of worlds gone by, Max had seen some of what her counterpart could do. Rewind time. Undo bullet holes and train wrecks. Pull vicious pranks and defuse bitter arguments.

Ever since the trip, Max had wondered if she could do all that, too. But then she’d remember the misery those other Maxes had faced, and she stopped herself.

But what else was stopping her? Wasn’t it worth it to try?

“Okay! Finished!” Kate dropped the sketch pad on her lap, and she stretched out her arms. “Mm! That was a long one. Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay, Kate. Really.” Max stifled a yawn and leaned over for a peek. “How’s it look?”

“See for yourself.”

Kate held up the pad and Max found herself staring at a facsimile of her lanky body sprawled halfway out of an armchair. She admired the detail on her own face; true to her word, Kate _had_ spent a long time on the freckles. Overall, Max thought she could see this sketch working well for a webcomic or a picture book. Whatever Kate decided she wanted to pursue next. It was an honor just to be considered for a muse.

Max grinned and went to squeeze Kate’s shoulder. “Love it!”

“Thanks!” Kate leaned in and kissed Max on the cheek. “I was hoping you would.”

Kate was halfway out of her seat. She went to collect the pencils she’d strewn around her coffee table, and Max went to the kitchen to grab a pair of water bottles. She handed one to Kate and joined her on the couch.

After a moment of sitting close to each other, Max yawned, and she let herself slump over Kate. With a chuckle, Kate scooted to the side, until Max had stretched herself out on the couch, with her head resting in Kate’s lap. If the other girl minded, she didn’t let it show. She gave Max a radiant smile and began to twirl her fingers through her girlfriend’s bangs.

“You’re awfully clingy,” Kate remarked.

Max blushed and ducked her face down. “You noticed?”

“A little. I bet you couldn’t wait to be cozy like this.”

“Like you wouldn’t believe, Kate.”

“Well, thanks for sitting still at least.”

As they chatted, Kate uncapped her water bottle and took a drink. Max did the same, although she had to tilt her head up. With Kate’s lap for support, she felt a little ridiculous. Like she was a baby being given its bottle of milk. But if Kate felt at all embarrassed, she didn’t show it, and Max took solace in that tiny victory.

With half her bottle finished, Max glanced upward. “Hey, Kate?”

“Yes, Max?”

“I have a question for you.”

“Oh. What is it?”

Max’s lips twisted together, as she wrestled to find the right words. She glanced down at her hand again. No tremble this time.

“Do you,” she said slowly, “ever think much about last year? About the road trip?”

Kate stared down at her for a moment. Then her blank face cleared, and she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Um, sometimes. Like, when I’m praying.”

“Really?”

“Sure.” Kate shrugged. Her fingers never stopped twirling around Max’s hair. “You know, in some churches, it’s customary to pray for the dead. I was always taught that you should pray for someone’s soul to find its peace in the next life.”

“And you pray for Rachel.”

“Yeah.” Kate paused. Max watched her mouth quirk to the left. “I... I don’t know. Do you think that’s too weird?”

“No. It’s sweet.” Max grabbed for Kate’s hand and pulled it to her chest. “It’s exactly the kind of person you are.”

“Thanks.” Kate paused for another sip of water. “And what about you, Max?”

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately.” Casting her eyes to the floor, Max examined a bare patch of carpet. She tried to see the spot where she and Chloe had danced with each other only the day before, celebrating good news and the prospects for their future. “I think about Rachel. And about that trucker we met along the way—”

“You mean Keisha?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.” Max allowed herself a smile. “She was something else.”

“I’ve never met someone as brave as her.”

“Me neither.” Max snuggled her head a little deeper into Kate’s lap. “I guess what I’m saying is... I worry about what that trip means for me.” She paused. “For us, I mean. Like, we saw a _ghost._ We saw visions of storms and Mark Jefferson and Chloe dying, and I just... like, I can’t even believe we’re still...”

“Max...” Kate shushed her, and then her hand was flicking away teardrops that Max didn’t realize she’d been shedding.

Wiping at her nose, Max nodded. “Th-thanks.”

“Max, I know it was scary. I was scared for _you_ most of all.” Kate reached over and squeezed Max’s hand. “I can’t imagine what the other Max had to face. But I’m glad I get to know _this_ Max and _this_ Chloe.”

Blinking back more tears, Max stared up at Kate’s touching smile. “You’re really too sweet, you know that?”

“So you keep telling me.” Kate nudged her in the shoulder. “You’re sweet, too.”

“Like sitting in a pose for half an hour?”

“Yes, and for other things, too.”

“Like cuddling your lap at four-thirty in the afternoon?”

“Yes, and... wait, what?”

Max giggled. “Relax, Kate. I’m not gonna be lewd or any—”

“No, it’s four-thirty?” Kate nudged Max’s head out of her lap and then leapt to her feet. She bounded across the room, picking up her sketch pad as she went. “Oh, shoot! I’m gonna miss the bus! I have art class in an hour!”

Max winced. “Ugh. My bad. I should’ve checked the time sooner.”

“Not your fault!” Kate called out from the other room. Max listened to the rumble of drawers opening and closing, and things being shoved around. Then came a patter of footsteps, and Kate reappeared a moment later with everything she needed shoved into a messenger bag. On her way toward the front door, Kate called over her shoulder, “I’ll text you once I’m out!”

“Call Chloe if you need a ride!” Max answered. She didn’t know if Kate heard her once the door slammed shut.

Sighing, Max fell back onto the couch. She stared at her hand again.

If it trembled, it barely lasted for a second.

* * *

_Tick. Tick. Tick._

Jesus, but that clock was loud. Max couldn’t wait for class to be over. She settled back in her chair and continued to doodle in her notebook. Easier to watch the story taking place in her margins than whatever the professor was babbling on about.

“ _...Little pieces of time, but he could have been talking about photography, as he most likely was..._ ”

Max sketched the face of a cat she’d seen on her way to class. Or, at least, she tried to sketch it. For some reason, as she held the pen down to the paper, she was having trouble adding a single line of blue ink to the page. She grit her teeth and pushed harder. Another few failed attempts later, and she was almost stabbing the paper.

But, of course, the teacher wasn’t oblivious. His voice sharpened, and Max felt the entire gaze of the class settle over her.

She didn’t want to lift her head.

“Now, Max,” said the teacher, “since you’ve clearly captured our attention and want to join the conversation, can you give us an example of the first self-portrait?”

Max shut her eyes. She responded with a fierce shake of her head.

“Maaax...” Mark Jefferson’s voice cut through the din. “Come on, Miss Caulfield. There’s no other way to save her, is there?”

Max’s heart thundered in her chest. She clutched at her shirt, trying to quiet it down. She didn’t know why it would work like that, but she trusted it. After all, this wasn’t real. This was only—

 _Oh,_ Max thought, _that’s right. It’s just a dream._

She tested that theory. With a sudden shove, Max sent her camera flying off her desk. She listened to it shatter into a dozen pieces on the floor. Wincing, she even heard the lens crack on impact, and she felt weirdly guilty. But this move didn’t trigger a response from Jefferson, which she found strange.

Max tried to open her eyes.

When she did, she gasped.

The classroom at Blackwell Academy was gone. Instead, she stood alone in a white room. It was eerie, the way all those matte black cameras stood on their tripods, row upon row like headstones in a graveyard. Every way that Max turned, those cameras twisted silently to track her. Every move, every tripod, every lens—it all ran together in a way that made Max’s blood run cold. She shook her head and pushed herself away, but she only stumbled into the sudden patch of grass that appeared under her feet.

Clutching at the grass and the weeds, Max cursed. Why couldn’t she just go home? Why did her subconscious have to torment her like this?

“Now, now, Max,” Jefferson chided her, “that’s no way to behave. After all, one slip-up on _my_ part, and she gets it...”

Max froze. She blinked. When she didn’t hear anything more, she turned around slowly.

Mark Jefferson stood over a whimpering Chloe Price in the girls’ bathroom. But the cold gaze that Jefferson wore didn’t look anything like the teacher Max had once adored. This was the mugshot, the one she’d seen in the paper after his arrest and the Dark Room’s exposure to the world. No remorse. No charm. Just pure defeat, even though it was well-deserved.

“M-Max...” Chloe’s voice quavered in the chilly air. Her blue hair shook around her eyes like loose vines, and Max tried to reach for her. A pane of glass kept them apart. Max could only watch as Jefferson reached into his pocket.

“Never forget my number one rule, Max,” Jefferson declared. He drew out a syringe, fully loaded, and before Chloe could call out, he plunged the needle right into the side of her neck. Hard. So hard that a trickle of blood ran down her collarbone and soaked into the front of her skull t-shirt. Just like before.

“Always take the shot,” said Jefferson. “ _Always._ ”

Now the bloodstain became a gunshot wound. Now Chloe fell to the bathroom floor, as limp and as slow as the first time. As she’d done every time Max had seen her die in a thousand nightmares that weren’t real. That could never be real, not in this timeline.

But Jefferson stood over Chloe’s lifeless, blood-soaked body with a sneer. He dropped the syringe to the floor, and then he crushed it beneath his shoe. Glass cracked, and Max slammed her fist against the invisible glass pane.

That, too, shattered.

And she fell forever.

“Max...” Chloe’s voice called out to her from the bottom of the well. Max tried to cling to the roots and rocks she passed along her descent, but everything slipped right out of her grasp. She tumbled head over heels, screaming and flailing, desperate to catch something. To catch anything. Just one more thing she could do to save herself, and then Chloe would be—

“ _Max!_ ” Chloe’s voice shattered the well, and Max fell no more.

* * *

She woke up to Chloe furiously shaking her. Max gasped for air, and she tried to push her girlfriend away.

“Hey, Max!” Chloe’s face pressed itself against Max’s cheek. Her breath was warm in Max’s ear. “Hey, c’mon. Shh. Come on, it’s only me. It’s only me...”

“Chloe...?” Her voice came out raspy and deep. “What are you...?”

“You were having a nightmare, genius.” Chloe tried to laugh, but it came out a little too high-pitched. She clamped a hand over her mouth, and Max found the reaction strangely adorable. She lifted her own hand to brush away the hair from Chloe’s face. Seeing her strawberry-blonde hair, with the one blue streak, was reassuring. Max focused on it for as long as she could.

“It was...” Max swallowed. Her throat had gone completely dry. How long had she been screaming? “It was horrible.”

“I’ll bet. You could wake the dead with the way you were tossing and turning.”

Max looked over at the other side of their bed. In the gloom, she saw Kate lying on her side. Watched her chest rise and fall as peacefully as ever. Either Kate was pretending to sleep for Max’s benefit, or else she really was tuckered out. Perhaps that nighttime art class had done a number on her.

Meanwhile, Chloe’s arms encircled her waist. Max sighed and leaned back into the other girl’s chest. She felt a pair of lips press down on her forehead, and she smiled.

Max had been having terrible dreams for a while. That was nothing new. What surprised her was how often she’d been having the same dream until now. Before tonight, there was only the lighthouse, and the tower collapsing on top of her. There were cryptic clues in the newspaper she tried to read. Nothing that would have felt out of place in some David Lynch-style psychodrama. But tonight, she’d had a real nightmare.

When they moved in together, the three girls had promised not to discuss Mark Jefferson if they could help it. Or Nathan Prescott, for that matter. Rachel’s loss was a touchy subject, too, but in recent months, Chloe had seemed more at peace about it. She didn’t blow up over a mention of the girl’s name, and she didn’t sit and grieve the way she did after the road trip. It had taken a lot of _Blade Runner_ nights to get Chloe to that less emotional place. But looking it over in her head now, Max wondered if a single mention of Jefferson’s presence would bring all those horrible memories back again?

She thought back to the window pane that she’d slammed her fist against. Max saw it again in her mind’s eyes. A slightly concave pane of glass, polished and pristine.

A camera lens. But of _course_ Jefferson would conjure up photography in her dreams.

Rachel had told Max she had a power over time. Was photography the key to it? Max didn’t know. And the longer she thought it over, the more her head hurt. She groaned and pressed her fingers to her temples.

“What’s wrong?” asked Chloe. Her arms tightened around Max.

“I don’t know...”

“Liar.”

“I’m serious, Chloe. I... I don’t know what’s wrong with me...”

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Max Factor.” Chloe bent down for another kiss on the forehead. “You’re perfect.”

“Thanks, girlfriend.” Max closed her eyes. “Same to you.”

“You know it.” Shifting forward, Chloe tried to draw Max over to her pillow. “Now, will you _please_ get some shut-eye? It’s, like, four in the morning, and I’ve got work.”

Max let out a soft noise of protest. But she didn’t stop Chloe from pushing her back into bed and pulling the covers over them again. She didn’t resist when Chloe drew her into a hug, as tight as she could, with Max’s head nestled in the space below her chin. Max sighed and closed her eyes. She was close enough to hear the heart thumping in Chloe’s chest. Without warning, she put her hand to the other girl’s chest.

“Really, Max?” Even in the gloom, Chloe’s grin was obvious. “Getting frisky, aren’t we?”

“Shut up.” Max leaned up and stole a kiss from Chloe. She added another kiss to the cheek, and then she dropped her head onto the nearest shoulder she could find. “It’s four in the morning, and you’ve got work.”

“Touche, Max.” Chloe’s breath was warm in her ear. A hand stroked away the hair from Max’s face. “Try to get some sleep. And no more nightmares. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Mm-hmm.” Max closed her eyes again. “G’night, Chloe...”

“Nighty-night, Max.”

For the rest of the night, there were no more dreams. Max thanked whatever gods there were for that small blessing.

* * *

“Ah- _choo!_ ” Chloe’s face scrunched up, and she barely caught the sneeze with her left hand. She groaned and turned away from the armchair.

“Bless you!” Kate added from the armchair. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a white linen handkerchief. “Here. I haven’t used it. I promise it’s clean.”

“Ugh...” Chloe kept a hand over her nose while she took the offering. “Kate, you rule...”

From her vantage point in the kitchen, Max could only smile and shake her head. The two women were still setting up for the day’s photo session. She watched them chatter and rearrange themselves in different poses on and around the armchair. Kate was the sort who preferred to sit up straight with her hands folded in her lap, her chin lifted and eyes focused on the camera. Meanwhile, Chloe was more of a rebel without cause, draping herself over the back of the armchair or trying to lean into frame from the side, even though she lost her balance in several attempts. But her grin never once faded.

Max double-checked the aperture setting on her little retro camera. It wasn’t easy, considering the mid-morning light that was coming into the living room. But it was a Saturday morning, and the one time all three girls could be together without worrying about classes, work, or church services. And thus, the perfect time for Max to take her long-awaited photo for the Chase Space.

She’d made her decision the morning after that nightmare with Jefferson. Hearing him say “Take the shot” had stirred something in her. Max knew that she couldn’t just sit and wait for the right moment to come on its own. She had to do something herself. She had to trust that her aim was good and her subject was worth the film she’d be using.

And, if nothing else, getting in a good photo on her own terms would be a nice “Fuck you” to the man who’d ruined so many other girls’ lives.

“Everyone ready?” Max called out, leaning over the kitchen counter. She tapped her finger over the shutter button. Not hard enough to snap a picture, though.

“Hold yer horses!” Chloe shouted back. She stepped away from the armchair, and when Max caught the devious wink, she knew exactly what was about to happen.

But alas for poor Kate, she didn’t have a clue. It came as a complete shock to her when Chloe suddenly turned around and leapt onto the chair, more or less landing right in Kate’s lap. The smaller woman squealed, and Chloe reached up to wrap her arms around Kate’s shoulders. She clung to the girl in a half-reclining hug, resting her head on her shoulder and flashing Max’s camera a V-sign. Kate blushed, but even she couldn’t help but laugh at her girlfriend’s antics.

Max watched the other girl laugh, and before it could stop, she took the shot.

_Click._

The camera’s light flashed, and the two girls looked up in surprise. Max grinned as the fresh Polaroid slid out, and she waved it through the air for both of them to see.

She’d wanted to be more “artsy” this time, so she’d gone with black-and-white film instead of her color rolls. But the experiment had been a success. Max showed her girlfriends the final result. A beautiful unscripted moment of joy, with Chloe grinning for the camera and embracing Kate, who laughed and held onto Chloe just as tight. Two women, who dressed in totally opposite ways, but who were stuck together out of a mutual affection that Max could appreciate.

“My only regret,” said Max, offering the photo to Chloe, “is that you don’t still have blue hair. Otherwise, I’d have gone with a full-color photo.”

Chloe looked over the Polaroid. She still lay across Kate’s lap, humming to herself as she scrutinized Max’s work. Then she grinned and looked up. “Well, listen, I’m no photographer, but...”

“Ugh. Everyone’s a critic.”

“No, I’m just saying, Maximus.” Chloe tapped at her photographed self’s hair. “If you could _add_ some color in, like they do with those old-timey photos, you know? You could, like, totally make the streak in my hair blue. Maybe even shine up Kate’s cross necklace so it looks like real gold?”

“Chloe, that’s...” Max’s retort died on her lips. She paused and looked over the photo once Chloe handed it back. “That’s... actually not a bad idea.”

“See?” Chloe winked. “Yours truly is capable of great things, from time to time.”

“I think she’s right,” Kate offered. While she didn’t let go of Chloe, she moved one hand to finger the cross around her neck. “I think it’d look nice.”

Max nodded. “Well, if the master of coloring thinks so, then I’m sold.”

“Hey.” Kate’s cheeks flushed, and she tried to bury her face in Chloe’s shoulder. “I’m not that good.”

“Says the girl with a children’s book published.” Chloe patted Kate’s cheek and sat up to give the girl some space. “You’re a sweetheart, you know that?”

“I’d like to think so, yes.”

Max watched Kate’s shy smile return, and she knew all was right with the world again. She noticed that Kate had stopped wearing the same modest outfit she’d had from her time at Blackwell. But then, a lot had changed for Kate in over a year.

Despite all their best hopes, things had not gone so well at the Easter brunch with the Marsh family. Kate’s mother had put two and two together, and she’d denounced Kate’s “sinful choice” about living together with Max and Chloe. Kate had cried, and Chloe had shouted back. Loudly. In front of Kate’s little sisters, no less. Kate’s father had tried to smooth things over, but her mother wouldn’t hear of it. And so Kate had agreed to take some time away from her relatives. Not long thereafter, Max noticed she stopped wearing black cardigans and skirts. Kate began to favor blue summer dresses and sweaters with blue jeans. She even wore her hair down once or twice. But even for all her “momcore” look, as Chloe dubbed it, Kate still kept the little cross necklace.

Focusing on that golden cross now, Max considered taking a candid close-up on Kate. She even considered sending it to Victoria along with the first photograph, just to see her reaction. But this film was expensive, and Max knew better than to waste her shot.

She stepped back from the armchair and adjusted her camera settings. Meanwhile, Chloe stretched and yawned.

“Don’t mind me, girls,” she said. “I’m just gonna grab a snack.”

“Yes,” Max called out, “because modeling is such hard work.”

“Ooh, frisky _and_ taking no shit.” Chloe laughed, and when she passed Max, she reached down to give her butt a quick slap. “Our little photographer’s a real badass today.”

Max laughed and brushed at her bangs. “Ha, if only...”

“Annnd just like that, it’s gone.” Chloe shook her head. “ _So_ sad!”

Max watched her leave. She noticed the ripple of sunlight through the open apartment window, and she listened for the traffic outside. Inside the apartment, everything was quiet, but outside, the world was on the move. She loved the balance of it, the fearful symmetry as Blake would put it.

She was about to go and rummage through the cabinets with Chloe when Max felt something tremble in her hand.

She looked down.

Her breath caught.

No, no, this couldn’t be happening. Not to her.

But it was.

The photo in her hand vibrated. The longer Max stared at it, the more she saw the image of Kate and Chloe blur together, and in that moment, she could hear their distant laughter.

Max asked herself, _Could I do this? Is this even real?_

She concentrated on the photo. She willed herself to make it focus. To see what would happen. And the whole time she did, her right hand was trembling. The entire world went red in a flash, and then it went white.

And then...

_Whoosh._

The armchair with Kate vanished. So did Chloe in the kitchen. So did the entire apartment.

Just like that, the entire world was gone. Max stared out into the endless white void.

She couldn’t even scream if she wanted to.


	3. The Verdict

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max recovers from her first real adventure with time travel. Her girlfriends show concern for her well-being.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Labor Day! Also, happy launch for Before the Storm! Isn't it amazing?

When the world came rushing back, Max’s head felt ready to explode. She grabbed for the nearest surface she could find. As it turned out, what she caught was the edge of a smooth black countertop. She blinked, and her eyes adjusted ever so slowly to the glare of the mid-morning light pouring through the apartment window. Her ears adjusted, too, listening to a pair of voices chattering in the distance.

“...Seriously, Chloe, if you don’t move, I’m gonna lose all the feeling in my legs.” Kate still sat in the armchair. Her hand brushed away a strand of hair from her ear, and she tried to nudge the punk fiend from her lap.

“Like you’d ever get rid of lil ol’ me,” Chloe retorted. She turned and winked at Max. “So, hipster queen, what’s the verdict? Yay or nay...?”

Her words trailed off. Max took a cautious step back.

“Um, Max?” Kate shook her head. “What’s the matter?”

“What’d you see?” In a heartbeat, Chloe had lost her playful tone. She rolled back onto her feet and was racing across the living room to catch Max by the arm. With a gentle shake, Chloe leaned in close. “Hey, Max. Can you hear me? Hey, what did you see?”

“I don’t... I don’t know if...” Max swallowed. She glanced at the photo in her hand. Sure enough, it was the black-and-white photo she’d just taken. The same picture of Kate and Chloe, just gals being pals. Except that seemed like another lifetime ago. Max didn’t understand how everything had just... shifted. Like the universe had winked out of existence for only a second, and been replaced with this facsimile. This recreation. Max found herself examining every inch of the kitchen.

Nothing was out of place. Well, nothing except for the stove clock.

It was five minutes too early.

“Chloe...” Hearing her own voice, Max felt like she was slowly sinking underwater. She struggled to clear her throat. “I... I just took this photo, didn’t I?”

“You sure did, Max.” Chloe squeezed her shoulder. “Is... is it another vision? Is it a ghost?” Her voice went soft, almost timid. “Tell me it’s not Rachel...?”

“No, I don’t think so...” Max took a long breath to steady herself.

Her hand trembled as she put the photograph down on the counter. Then she placed the camera beside it. With her hands free to hug herself, she began her long, gentle sink down to the kitchen floor, huddling up against one of the cabinets. Chloe dropped down beside her, never once letting go. Within a second or two, Kate was right there beside them. Max hadn’t even heard her get up from the armchair.

“Max, you’re...” Kate brushed a hand on the side of Max’s face. “You’re going to be fine. Take another breath. Okay?”

“Okay...”

“It’s okay. We’re here now.”

“I-I know.” Max’s voice caught in a hitch. “I’m so grateful, you guys...”

“And we are, too.” Chloe wrapped both arms around Max. “Just... take your time, all right? Take your time.”

Max didn’t say anything. At first, she couldn’t even move. But then, after hearing Chloe say _take your time,_ she let out a giggle. And then another. Before she knew it, Max was laughing, and once she started laughing, she couldn’t stop. She was scared to stop, and she was laughing because she was scared. Poor Kate and Chloe could only stare at each other in confusion, while Max collapsed into Chloe’s arms, laughing and shivering like some asylum patient.

“Time!” Max wheezed out in between giggles. She shook her head, feeling tears drop onto her cheeks and across Chloe’s bare arm. “Time’s... the problem!”

Chloe’s eyes widened. “Holy shit. Max, did you just...?”

“I went back, Chloe!” Max’s laughter subsided, just long enough for her to let out a sob. Her hands clutched at her girlfriend’s shirt, and she buried her face in Chloe’s chest. “I’m back. I rewound. Whatever you wanna call it, I just...” She sighed, but to her ears, it came out as a whimper. “I did it with the photo...”

Kate stood up. Max didn’t need to look to know what she was doing. She heard the other girl bend over and examine the Polaroid lying on the counter.

“It’s just us,” Kate said. “I don’t get it.”

“I don’t either...” Max wanted to say more. To tell them about the world vanishing and reappearing. To tell them about the trembling in her right hand, where all the power was said to be hidden.

She was about to tell them all that, but when she opened her mouth, she tasted blood.

“Oh, shit...” Groaning, Max pressed a feeble hand to her upper lip. Felt blood trickling out of her nose. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to plug up her nostrils. But that only served to remind her of the splitting headache she’d just developed. Her whole body seemed to vibrate. Was this was going back through time felt like? Was the human body even supposed to handle that?

Max didn’t have time to find out. She closed her eyes, and her legs gave out from under her. The last thing she heard was Kate and Chloe calling out to her before the shadows swallowed her up.

* * *

Gentle breathing in her ear.

A pressure inside her head, ticking like a metronome.

Soft linen sheets curled up around her body.

When Max woke up, she knew that this was the real world again. Her eyes caught sight of the familiar bedroom ceiling, and a glance to her right revealed the nightstand where her alarm clock sat. The time was 2:34, spelled out in glowing red numerals. While the room itself was dark, and the curtains were pulled shut, Max guessed it was still the afternoon. She didn’t feel like she’d slept for an entire day. Just the thought of doing so made her feel intensely guilty, and so she tried to push herself up.

In her head, the pressure shot up tenfold. Max groaned, and she dropped back onto her pillow.

“Oh, you’re awake.” Kate’s quiet voice took Max by surprise. She whirled around to see the other girl in a blue sweater and jeans, curled up on top of the sheets next to her. Max groaned, and she didn’t resist when Kate pressed a hand to her forehead.

“You don’t seem to be running a fever,” said Kate. “Does it hurt?”

“A little...” Max’s voice came out as a dry whisper. She smacked her lips. “Can you get me...?”

“Water? Sure thing.” Rolling over to the other side of the bed, Kate grabbed a bottle of water from her own nightstand. She came back and took her time unscrewing the cap. When Max had trouble sitting up, Kate reached her hand behind Max’s back and guided her into an almost upright position. Max was more or less cradled to Kate’s chest as she took the bottle from her. Gulping down room-temperature water was a blessing she’d never knew she wanted. Max drank like she’d just finished a sprint through the Sahara.

With a gasp, she pushed away the half-empty bottle. “Th-thanks...”

“Don’t mention it.” Kate put away the bottle and continued to hold onto Max. “Just rest, okay? You gave us all a big scare.”

“Sorry...”

“It’s not your fault, Max.”

“Isn’t it though?” Max frowned. She winced when she remembered the vibrating photo in her hand. “This is what I get for screwing around with time, apparently.”

Kate didn’t say anything. She kept one arm around Max’s shoulders, while she lifted her other hand to massage the side of her head. The soft, rhythmic pressure clashed with the one building up inside Max’s head, and she closed her eyes. Let Kate work her magic, and she was sure she’d be feeling better in no time.

 _No time,_ she thought to herself. _Like I don’t have all the time in the world now._

She heard the door to the apartment open and shut. Heavy footsteps and rustling plastic bags grew louder in the hallway, and within half a minute, Chloe entered the bedroom. She grinned, popping the collar of her leather jacket and hoisting a pair of takeout bags from the local Hawaiian burger joint. Max didn’t want to leave the absolute comfort and security of her bed, but she also couldn’t deny the growl in her stomach when she caught a whiff of roasted pineapple and sesame seed buns.

“Rise n’ shine, little trooper!” Chloe cried. She deposited the bags beside the bed, and then she was on top of Max, showering her cheeks with kisses. “Mwah! Yes, yours truly has returned with an honest-to-God feast! Better eat before it gets cold!”

“You’re ridiculous,” Kate murmured, stretching out her arms.

“I thought you loved that about me, Katie Kat.”

“Yes. Among other things...”

Max didn’t care about the banter. She was too grateful for the food. After some light needling, she managed to convince her girlfriends that, yes, an impromptu picnic on the bed was perfectly normal. Kate, ever the mother figure, still had to lay out a couple of clean towels so they didn’t ruin the bedspread. Chloe, meanwhile, took great delight in propping Max’s head on her shoulder and more or less feeding her nibbles. Max didn’t mind this arrangement, or the fact that she was getting a face covered in secret sauce. The tender light in Chloe’s eyes as she wiped up Max with a napkin was all the comfort she needed right then.

If there truly was a crisis at hand, or if she’d somehow broken time, Max didn’t care. She just prayed that moment would last forever.

* * *

Later that night, they sat together on the couch, watching old movies on TV. Over Chloe’s objections, Kate insisted that they try to make Max feel at home. They spent the next three hours watching anime of all sorts, and even though Chloe rolled her eyes, it didn’t escape Max’s notice that the punk rocker was more than a little engaged with the drama of Japanese high school students and giant robot pilots within an hour’s time. Seeing her girlfriend’s rapt expression put Max at ease, if only for a while.

At the end of the marathon, Chloe was passed out and snoring on Max’s shoulder. Max didn’t move. The blanket cocoon that Kate had swaddled her in was too comfortable to leave, and the same went for Chloe’s cuddling. Max tilted her head to the side and nuzzled the top of her girl’s head.

This, she could trust. This was real. Whatever else she’d seen, she knew she’d have this.

It had been the same back on the trip to LA. Clinging to Chloe and Kate while visions assaulted her brain, and Rachel’s laughter echoed everywhere she turned. Max knew the reason why they’d received their haunting. But she didn’t know why she could time travel now.

If she thought hard enough, Max could see her other selves fighting to save Chloe. To talk Kate down from the ledge. To expose Jefferson’s crimes. But that was irrelevant now, wasn’t it? Nathan had turned on his mentor before Max could do anything. Kate was alive because she’d gotten justice before it was too late. And Chloe survived a shot to the stomach against all odds. This was the jackpot, as Rachel had called it.

So why did Max feel like something was horribly wrong with all this?

“Hey, are you okay?”

Kate’s gentle voice stirred Max out of her spiraling thoughts. She turned and looked her girlfriend in the eyes. Kate’s brown eyes were dark and mysterious, reflecting the glare from the TV as a long list of animation credits rolled by.

Max pursed her lips together. “Mm-mmm.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I don’t know where to even start.”

Kate shrugged. “Start anywhere. I won’t judge you.”

Silence fell between them. Max leaned her head back and let her eyes wander up toward the ceiling. She tried to ignore the glare from the TV.

“It’s scary to think I have this power,” she finally said. “And what’s really scary is all those visions I got last year about the... the other me. The Max who can stop a train from hitting people, or who can point a gun at a drug dealer, or who can...” She paused and glanced over at Kate. “I’m, uh, rambling, aren’t I?”

“It’s okay. You’re doing fine.” Kate touched her shoulder. “Keep going.”

“I just... I worry, that’s all.” Max swallowed. “I worry that some new crisis is going to unfold and, you know, if maybe that’s why I’m supposed to have this power. Like, what am I supposed to even do?”

Kate blinked. “Who says you have to do anything?”

“But then why—?”

“Max,” Kate interrupted. She lifted a finger to her girlfriend’s lips, shushing her at once. “Can I tell you something?”

Max nodded. Kate withdrew her finger and smiled.

“There’s this story my pastor liked to tell,” she continued. “So there’s this girl, and she goes running up to her mother. She picked this flower, but it hadn’t bloomed yet. So the girl tried to force the petals open, but that only ruined the flower. She cries, and she asks her mother why she couldn’t make the petals open like how God does it. Her mother takes the girl and she tells her, ‘That’s because God opens the flower from the _inside._ ’”

Kate paused. Max looked her over, still not daring to say a word. She watched Kate’s brow furrow, and then she rubbed at her eyes.

“It’s kinda silly, I know,” she started to say.

“No, it’s not.” Max scooted an inch closer on the couch. She felt a pang of guilt when Chloe’s head dropped from her shoulder. “It’s a good story, Kate. And I think I’m beginning to see your point.”

Kate smiled, her face lit up by the TV’s glare. “My point, Max, is that you don’t always have to try and fix things. You didn’t need to be a hero to save me when Jefferson got arrested, or when I had to go to court. You were just there for me. And now I’m here for you. And for Chloe, too.”

Max sniffled. “You’re too pure for this world, Kate.”

“And you’re too nice to let go, Max.” Kate leaned in for a quick kiss. Then she added, “You’re also a lot cooler than I’ll ever be, even without time travel.”

Her hand snuck underneath the blankets, searching for Max’s arm. Their fingers locked together. Two pairs of brown eyes stared at each other in the silent living room, ignoring the chatter and artificial music of a thousand commercials playing on TV in the background.

* * *

Too loud. That was the impression that Max got the moment she stepped outside her door. She didn’t just hear the traffic in motion around her. No, she _felt_ it. Every dog barking as it strained against its owner’s leash, trying to make contact with a fellow canine across the street. Every little baby’s anguished whimper as its mother pushed along with a stroller. Every squealing tire from some kid in his hot red sedan, trying to be the latest badass as he narrowly missed a red light on the next corner he turned. The entire world was a symphony of noise that no one could seem to bring into harmony, and it was all Max could do not to run back home, to slam the door shut behind her once more. Embrace the quiet darkness of the bedroom. Shut out the world.

She would’ve done it, if not for Chloe’s steady hand on her shoulder.

“Hey,” Chloe whispered, “it’s cool. You don’t gotta be Super Max just yet, okay? Just take it slow. I’m with ya every step.”

Max nodded. “Thanks, Chloe.” She drew in a deep breath and faced the front steps. “Okay, taking it slow. Taking it real slow...”

“Yeah, yeah. Just like that. One foot in front of the other...”

They moved slowly down the street, only a block south of home in Bay City. It was a gorgeous Sunday afternoon. With Kate still out at her church service, Max and Chloe had time to themselves. They spent it with a quiet indoor lunch, followed by Chloe’s attempt to ease Max back into the “real world.” Going for a walk under the clear blue skies and rows of sidewalk trees shouldn’t have been a problem for Max, but today was different. Today, she needed every bit of reassurance. Every hope that the world wouldn’t disappear again. That no more ghosts or bogeymen were haunting her steps.

Chloe’s hand, wrapped tight around her own, was her link to what was real. Max kept repeating it over and over in her head.

“If you get tired,” Chloe remarked at one street corner, “just say the word. We’ll skedaddle back on home.”

“Really? Skedaddle?”

“What? It’s a perfectly cromulent word, Max.”

“Eat my shorts.”

Chloe giggled. “Good to see your sense of humor’s survived. Guess that means you’re on the mend.”

Max didn’t respond. She held on tight to Chloe as they crossed the street. Watching the leaves turn yellow in each tree they passed, she knew that they’d be coming up on the anniversary. The anniversary of Chloe’s shooting. Of their reunion. Of the moment that Max had professed her love for the two women she adored more than anyone else. But after Rachel’s visit from beyond the grave, they knew better than to judge. Life was strange like that. One moment was painful beyond belief, and the next was so happy and pure that you never saw it coming.

Still, as they circled back home, Max found herself checking her hand. It wasn’t trembling like before, but she knew it wasn’t just the hand she had to worry about. There was also the photograph sitting on the kitchen counter.

“Hey, Chloe?”

“Yeah, Max?”

“You, um... you know about the photo I took, right?” Max paused. “The one I took yesterday?”

“Er, kinda hard to forget, isn’t it?” Chloe laughed and squeezed Max’s hand. “The moment you took it, you went all crazy Ophelia on me an’ Kate. No offense.”

“None taken.”

“But I will say,” Chloe added, “if it’s bothering ya, we can always get rid of it—”

“ _No!_ ” The word exploded out of Max’s mouth, louder and harder than she’d anticipated. She drew up to a halt. So did Chloe. She stared back at Max with wide eyes.

“S-sorry?” Chloe stammered. “Hey, Max, look. I... I didn’t mean to upset you or—”

“No, I... I’m sorry.” Max rubbed at her temples, taking plenty of deep breaths and willing herself to  calm down again. One, two, three. One, two, three. In and out, in and out, just like that. When she felt a little more level-headed, Max flashed Chloe an apologetic smile. “I shouldn’t have yelled. It’s just... geez, I don’t even know.” She shrugged. “I can’t even explain it, Chloe.”

“You don’t gotta explain anything.” Chloe let go of Max’s hand, just long enough to wrap her whole arm around her skinny girlfriend’s shoulders. “I trust ya.”

“Thanks again for that.”

“You bet.” Chloe paused, considering her next words. “Look, if you want to keep the photo, then we’ll keep it, okay? We’ll put it away, and you can, like, rest your shutterbug butt ’til we figure something out.”

Max scoffed. “My _what?_ ”

“Your shutterbug butt.” Chloe winked and squeezed her shoulders again. “It’s your best feature, honestly.”

“You are so obvious, Blue.”

“Which is why you love _me,_ right?”

“Now and forever.” Max leaned into Chloe’s shoulder. “You’re right. We can figure this out at home. Together.”

Chloe laughed and led the way. Max didn’t have to go fast to keep up with the taller girl. They moved at their own slow pace, and Max’s gaze drifted over the leaves that began to fall from the trees. She tracked cars passing them on both sides of the street, and she fought the urge to pet every dog they saw along the way. It wasn’t quite the normal she was used to, but Max would take it over constant nightmares any day of the week.


	4. Sad Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max's concerns over her power and visons get worse. She decides to take a risk and visit a familiar face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, at least now I can justify that this is still a crossover fic!

As a kid, Max used to love the rain. She loved the cold chilly mornings and how different the air smelled. And for a shy kid, nothing could be better than getting to stay indoors and do something quiet like read a book or play a board game. Chloe would usually grumble about being cooped up, but she found ways to stay occupied. And when Max moved with her parents to Seattle, she still loved the rain and the cloudy days. Her friends Kristen and Fernando would engage her in hour-long text battles over their favorite bands and comics while they stayed inside their respective homes, typing as fast as the rain hit the pavement outside.

All that changed with the storm.

On Monday morning, it rained. Nothing more than a light drizzle. Nothing to worry about. That’s what Kate promised.

But Max refused to leave her bed.

When she saw the rain now, she didn’t experience nostalgia. What flashed through her brain at ninety miles an hour were visions of the storm that tore Arcadia Bay apart. What Max saw—or relived, depending on how you viewed time—was another apocalypse waiting to happen. Weird weather, double moons, animals lying dead in the street, and the Two Whales Diner exploding. All hints of the tragedies that the other Max witnessed.

 _But not this time,_ Max swore. She would not be moved. Not even when Chloe tried to grab under her shoulders and knees, and hoist her up like a child. Max wriggled free and ducked under the covers.

She felt a pang of guilt over the sigh she heard from Chloe, just before the bedroom door closed itself.

Soon, she’d apologize. Of course she was being irrational. But wasn’t all this supernatural stuff just as crazy? Max sure thought so. She wasn’t about to make the same mistakes as her otherworldly counterpart. Let the other Max face the Dark Room or lose Kate to suicide or whatever. So long as she stayed right where she was, the little life she’d built for herself would be safe.

The first text messages didn’t arrive until an hour and a half later. Max ignored the first buzz from her phone. But when it kept buzzing, she thrust a hand out from under the sheets and pulled the phone to her face. Blinking, she fought the sudden glare from the backlit screen and tried to read.

> **_Chloe:_ ** _yo yo mad max u up?_
> 
> **_Chloe:_ ** _gurl don’t leave me hangin_
> 
> **_Chloe:_ ** _..._
> 
> **_Chloe:_ ** _c’mon maximus decimus_
> 
> **_Chloe:_ ** _its ur girl chloe_
> 
> **_Chloe:_ ** _lemme know how you’re feelin_
> 
> **_Chloe:_ ** _luv u_

That was at 10:36. The next round of messages occurred just seven minutes later.

> **_Kate:_ ** _hi Max!_
> 
> **_Kate:_ ** _hope you’re feeling better!_
> 
> **_Kate:_ ** _let me know if you want me to bring you some lunch_
> 
> **_Kate:_ ** _i have a break from 12 to 4 today if you want some company_
> 
> **_Kate:_ ** _bless you, Max_ ^__^

If nothing else, Max wanted to text back a series of heart emojis. Her finger hovered over the reply button.

She waited.

Then she thought, _But why am I doing this?_

Sitting around and feeling sorry for herself wasn’t going to cut it. Missing class wouldn’t make her life any better. So there was a supernatural side to the world that no one knew about. So what? Except for timelines beyond her own, Max had nothing to fear.

It started with kicking the covers and bedsheets away. Max used that momentum to roll onto her side. She clutched the phone in one hand and she used her other to grab onto the nightstand. With a deep breath, Max applied a little leverage and hauled herself up. She kept glancing down at Kate’s last text and using that for morale. With each little grunt and shove, she got herself in a mostly upright position.

Then Max rose to her feet. She forced herself to turn around and look out the window.

The rain had stopped. It was still cloudy outside, but it wasn’t the downpour she saw in her dreams. In fact, a sliver of light poked through the cloud layer, illuminating a patch of the road outside her apartment.

 _This is normal,_ Max kept saying to herself. _This is normal. We’re all alive, and this is normal for us._

She tried for a smile. A tiny smile. Max checked her reflection in the window.

Her smile widened.

“You have a talent,” she told herself. “Try using it.”

* * *

That afternoon found Max sitting on the living room floor, with the coffee table shoved back into the couch. Over thirty different photographs were laid out in a semicircle in front of her. Polaroids and a few digital print-outs, all taken from her Memorial Wall. But sitting on its own, in a spot beside her left knee, was the black-and-white photo Max had taken of her girlfriends just two days earlier.

Had it been two days? She’d couldn’t quite tell. Warping through time and fitful sleep hadn’t done her internal clock any favors.

Max’s gaze lingered on the first photo she saw. A shot of her with Kate and Chloe standing outside the lighthouse in Arcadia Bay. It was a beautiful shot taken at sunset, right at the vaunted “golden hour” of photography. Their faces were hardly visible in the silhouettes they cast, but Max could tell who was who just by their height, their hair, and the way they clung to one another. She could trust in tiny gestures like that.

Of course, this wasn’t a moment she wanted to ruin. She didn’t want to jump back in time and spoil that Max’s happiness.

On the coffee table, her phone buzzed again. Max twisted around in place to look at the latest message.

> **_Chloe:_ ** _hey maximilian_
> 
> **_Chloe:_ ** _wanna eat out later?_
> 
> **_Chloe:_ ** _and then we’ll grab some lunch after that (bow chicka wow wow)_
> 
> **_Chloe:_ ** _..._
> 
> **_Chloe:_ ** _admit it, i’m hilarious_

Max scrunched up her nose. “Ugh.”

She texted back that exact response, along with a promise to consider it. For now, she was busy on something. “Something big” was how she phrased it in the text.

Her response arrived two seconds later.

> **_Chloe:_ ** _cool cool_
> 
> **_Chloe:_ ** _later max dangerfield_

Letting her phone drop onto the table, Max considered the next row of photos. Most of what she found were souvenirs and mementos from the road trip after their encounter with Rachel. Fun times in Los Angeles, the rare sight of Kate Marsh in a bikini, and the savage way Chloe had trashed their hotel room in Santa Monica before they’d almost gotten kicked out. So many cool locales, but always with the same set of familiar faces. But there was a photo from that group that she needed more than anything. Something she needed to see.

Miss Grant, her old science teacher from Blackwell, would’ve said Max was “testing a hypothesis” and given a nod of approval. Max didn’t know if it was much of a theory when she knew it worked. It’d been tested plenty, just never intentionally.

Ah, there it was. Max pushed away the old Polaroids and snatched up the single portrait from the pile. Wasn’t hard to find, considering it was the only photo she’d taken of someone who wasn’t herself or her girlfriends. Another photo taken later in the day, just before sunset. The backdrop was a Sears parking lot, where an eighteen-wheeler truck sat parked. But standing in front of the truck was its driver, a fairly tall woman with a massive head of dark curled hair and a baseball cap emblazoned with a company logo.

The logo read, _Bay and Creek Shipping._

Max swallowed. She ignored the trio of buzzes from her phone and lifted the photo.

She concentrated.

Right away, her hand trembled. Then, her whole body. Like every cell was the finely tuned string of a guitar, and something was playing chords through her whole being.

Max stared into the photo.

She saw the image blur.

And then—

The world flashed red. Then red turned to white.

And then—

* * *

Light returned. So did the shadow of the massive rig. Max shielded her eyes for a second, but she knew she hadn’t missed.

All she had to do was listen.

“...See you girls around,” Keisha was saying. Her shoes crunched on the light gravel of the asphalt, backing away from Max and the others. “You call me if you ever find yourselves in trouble again.”

“Wait!” Max lifted a hand from her eyes.

She saw Keisha in the flesh. Just the same as she looked in her photo, but only slightly more puzzled than she had before. So did Kate and Chloe, who approached Max from behind.

“I, uh...” Max needed a moment to recognize that her clothes had changed. She was wearing the same gray hoodie and jeans from that day, same Jane Doe graphic t-shirt. Gone were the pajamas and college sweater she’d donned back in her apartment. Or, at least, she wouldn’t be wearing that outfit just yet. A year from now, but in her head this was still a year ago, and so—

Ugh. Time travel made tenses so damn tricky.

“Max?” Keisha cocked her head to the side. “Something the matter?”

"Um, I don’t know...” Max glanced back at Chloe. “Sorry, but I just remembered. I, er, need to talk to Keisha. Alone.”

Chloe looked just as spooked as Max. But still, she nodded. “Yeah, sure thing, Max. We’ll stay chill for a sec.”

“Max, are you...?” Kate started to ask, but Max interrupted her with a wave.

“It’s fine, Kate. Really.” Max tried to smile. She had no idea how reassuring it looked, but it kept Kate quiet and hanging back with Chloe.

Max led Keisha by the arm over to the front of the big rig’s cabin. Keisha pushed up the brim of her baseball cap. She gave Max a concerned frown. “You mind telling me what that was about? Is it another vision?”

“Something like that.” Max didn’t let go of Keisha’s arm. “I... I need you to listen.”

* * *

Five minutes later, Keisha was holding Max again, reassuring her the way she’d done before. Max remembered that night they’d hung out at the motel, right before they went their separate ways. That was a lifetime ago, but only a few hours for Keisha. But she hadn’t once interrupted Max’s anxious rambling about time travel and jumping through photos like they were her own private warp gate. She watched Max with narrow eyes, but every so often, the trucker would nod and reach out to touch Max’s arm for comfort.

Now Keisha’s voice was warm in Max’s ear. “You shouldn’t have done this.”

“Why not?” Max pulled back. “I know it’s real now. I know what this power can do. I... I can change things, Keisha.” She swallowed. “Isn’t it worth finding out more?”

“Max...”

“You believe me, right?”

Keisha’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I can’t _not_ believe you, Max. It’d be easier on me if I could.” She paused. “You’re sure that there’s no side effects?”

“Some headaches,” Max admitted. After touching her upper lip, she added, “I still get nosebleeds, too. That hasn’t changed.”

“Could be dangerous to keep going.”

Max chewed on her bottom lip. “You’re still going after Alice, aren’t you?”

Keisha fell silent. Max looked away, already ashamed for even bringing it up. She didn’t know half the things this woman had seen or done. And she didn’t even have the same commitments. Max had only joked about getting married a few days ago—from her perspective—and yet now she could screw around with time like she owned it. The jet lag might’ve been brutal, but not for the last time, Max wondered if this was only a little pain worth handling for the massive rewards to follow.

 _Always take the shot,_ Jefferson had said in her dreams. Was this was that meant?

“Listen,” Keisha finally said. She took a step back and folded her arms over her chest. Leaning against the front of her truck, she regarded Max. “I can’t stop you from doing what you want, Max. It’s your life. But it’s also your responsibility. Sure, you _could_ smash the flow of time to suit your needs. But what about them?” She gestured vaguely over her shoulder, over to where Chloe and Kate would be. “What if they don’t come out as clean as you?”

“I’m the only one who has to suffer for this,” Max insisted. “It’s _my_ power, isn’t it?”

“You don’t know for sure, though.”

“I might.”

“Jumping back here was already a big risk. You said you didn’t hear from me for a year. But now what? What if my path changes because of this conversation, Max?” Keisha shook her head. “Can’t uncross that river now.”

Max squeezed her eyes shut. “You don’t know that for sure.”

Keisha offered a dry chuckle. “I _might._ ”

They fell silent again. Max stared down at her right hand. It wasn’t trembling. Her head still tingled after her journey through time, but otherwise she felt fine. And right now, Kate and Chloe were fine, too. Max knew that anything could change, though. Her visions from Rachel’s ghost had proven that. No matter how safe the other Max felt, there was always a price. Always some new calamity, some new twist, that would plunge its knife into her back, leaving Max in tears and Chloe either dead and broken.

“Listen,” said Max. “Can you do me a favor?”

Keisha stared back. “What kind of favor?”

“A small one, that’s all.”

“I can’t leave my work, Max.” Another pause. “And it’s not leaving _me_ either.”

“You won’t, I promise.” Swallowing hard, Max rubbed her hand over her other elbow, trying to work up the courage for the next words. “Just... if you see or hear from me again after this, I need you to tell me if anything’s changed for you. If, like, you find yourself in danger because of me. Because, if you do, I... I can...”

“Change it back?” Keisha shook her head. “Max, this won’t end well. Trust me, I’ve seen what time travel can do to people.”

“What?”

“Praxis Industries.” Saying the name made Keisha look a little sick. She shook her head. “Look it up. It’s... it’s scary. The way it puts people through these little ripples in time and space.” She sighed. “I’ve seen a young man grow old and put him in a coffin, less than an hour after I met him. I’ve seen a brother and sister grow old by _decades_ , always tending the same restaurant no matter what city I end up in.”

Her hand suddenly reached out and wrapped around Max’s wrist. Max flinched, but she calmed down when she saw the sorrow in her friend’s eyes.

“Just please be careful,” Keisha whispered. “And no matter what, keep your trust in Kate and Chloe. They know what you’ve been through. They’ll help you. I’m sure of it.”

“Okay, I will.”

“Good.” Keisha stepped back and winked. As she did, the entire world began to fade out into the blinding white void again. “Because, honestly, I’ve done and seen some shit, but throwing you girls together seems to make for one unstoppable combo...”

* * *

_Whoosh._

Raindrops collecting on the windowsill.

The quiet shuffle of bare feet on the carpet.

Warm arms wrapped around Max’s waist.

She didn’t need to look around to know she was back where she belonged. Without even looking back, Max reached her hand and caressed the rose-and-thorn tattoo on Chloe’s arm. Chloe only chuckled and retaliated by pulling Max further back onto the couch of their apartment.

“Hey, look at that,” Chloe exclaimed. “ _Someone’s_ in a good mood.”

“Thanks to you, you dork.”

“Takes one to know one, hippie.” Craning her head down, Chloe pressed a gentle kiss against Max’s cheek. “Get your sad day outta your system?”

Max glanced over at the coffee table. Someone had moved it back to its original spot away from the couch. On its old wooden surface, all her photographs had been arranged into a pair of clumsy stacks that tipped into each other. The black-and-white photo of Kate and Chloe sat prominently on top of the pile, titled at an angle so Max could see it without leaning out of her girlfriend’s grip. How long ago had she even taken that picture?

Two days, Max remembered. She tried to repeat that over and over in her head. Two days. It had only been two days. Today was Monday, and she could deal with it.

“Sorry for scaring you like that,” Max confessed. She twisted her head around to look Chloe in the eye. “Just one of my moody days, I guess.”

“Don’t even apologize, Max.” Chloe giggled. “I’ve had _way_ more than my share of shitty-ass days moping around.” She paused. “Y’know, you might consider yourself lucky you never had to see it for yourself.”

“That’s not true, Chloe.” Max swallowed. White bedsheets and an antiseptic smell raced through her mind. “I saw plenty in the hospital.”

Chloe grimaced. “Not my finest hour, I’ll admit.”

“I’m... I’m just glad you’re here.”

“Me, too, Max.” Chloe bent down for another kiss, this time closer to the corner of Max’s mouth. “Now, how ’bout I order us a pizza?”

“Seriously?”

“With extra pineapple?”

“Whatever floats your boat, Blue.” Max slid deeper into her girlfriend’s chest, dropping her head against the bony shoulder she found there. Her eyes drifted shut, and she added in a whisper, “Just so long as I’m outta the rain with you.”


	5. The Time Warp Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While perusing her photography collection, Max chooses to test the boundaries of her new power for an old friend.

“How about this one?” Chloe held up a selfie of the two girls wearing matching Hawt Dog Man t-shirts. Her grin turned insufferable. “And let me remind ya, if you say no, I’m gonna print  _ this _ on a t-shirt and wear the shit outta it.”

They sat on the floor in the living room, with the window open to let in sunshine and some much-needed fresh air. For a Tuesday morning, things were nice and quiet. With Kate off at her English class, Max and Chloe had the day to themselves. Max had pouted over Kate having to leave, but the other girl had reassured her that there’d be plenty of time later for cuddling and tea when she got back. Even so, Tuesday meant Max only had a few more days to go over the photos she wanted to send to Victoria. She kept the black-and-white picture in a separate folder on the kitchen counter. Out of sight, out of mind, she figured.

Meanwhile, she had press-ganged Chloe into being her second eyes and ears on the massive collection of photos she’d taken over the last year. For all the ways her best friend could goof around, she was nothing if not critically honest.

“The horror,” Max replied. She pointed to the Hawt Dog Man shirt she was currently wearing under her hoodie. “It’s not like we’re missing any more reminders of that day.”

“But seriously, how freakin’ awesome was that carnival?”

“Great. Right up until the moment  _ someone _ ate too many corn dogs.”

Chloe grinned, undaunted. “Ha! Joke’s on you! That was my new personal record!”

“For most hours spent losing your lunch in the girls’ room?” Max smirked. “For sure. I think I hear the guys at the Guinness Book of World Records calling.”

“Bite me.” Ducking her head, Chloe went searching through the pile on the coffee table. “Okay. How about...” She grimaced and tossed one Polaroid after another off to the side. “Hmm. Nope. No. Uh-uh. No, not that... wait...” Her grin returned, and she waved a photograph triumphantly in the air. “Dude, I’ve got it!”

“Let me see it.” Max tried to snatch the waving picture in her grasp. “And hey, be careful with that!”

“All right, all right. Chill your beans, sistah.” Chloe neatly dropped the Polaroid into Max’s open palm. “Tell me that’s not what you’re looking for.”

Max’s heart nearly froze when she saw the photo. It wasn’t an exact selfie like most of the other pictures. The subject was a blue butterfly, ghostly and translucent, perched on the rim of a janitor’s bucket of water. In the water that framed the butterfly was the even fainter reflection of Max’s face as she held up her camera and took the unbelievable shot.

A year and a half later, it was still pretty amazing.

But it wasn’t without its own bad memories.

“I mean, it’s a nice shot,” Max started to say, but Chloe interrupted her with a groan.

“Just ‘nice,’ Max?” She gestured at the Polaroid. “C’mon! That’s, like, an epic shot! It’s hella lit!”

“And it’s hella scary.”

“Okay, it doesn’t sound as good coming outta  _ your _ mouth, but—”

“Chloe, it’s not the photograph that worries me.” Max glanced down at the reflection of her face in the water. That Max had no clue what she was in for that day. “It’s the date. Don’t you remember it?”

When Chloe didn’t respond, Max looked up. She saw the other woman sitting back on her heels, crouched on the floor and staring away from the pile of photos. It didn’t occur to Max until a second or two later that Chloe was rubbing at her arms, trying to fight back a shiver that the warm mid-morning air didn’t warrant. Max hesitated before getting up and going to put her arms around Chloe’s shoulders.

“I remember,” Chloe said dully. She sniffled. “Of course I fuckin’ remember. That was... that was the day you came back.”

“The day you almost  _ died, _ Chloe.”

“And you think I don’t know that?” Turning to face her, Chloe’s eyes went hard. “I thought I  _ was _ dead. What else was I gonna think when I saw my mom crying and you waiting for me when I woke up?”

“It’s just... it hurts me to remember.” Max frowned. “I’m almost ready to tear up this photo now that I see it.”

“I won’t let you.” Chloe snatched the photo from Max’s hand and tucked it in the back pocket of her shredded jeans. “You’re not touching shit, Max Caulfield.”

“But what if—?”

“But nothing, Max.” Chloe got to her feet and shot an accusing finger down at her small, cowering girlfriend. “You don’t get to play around with fate. And you don’t get to decide what you keep or lose. This is a memento of what happened, and I won’t lose it.”

“Okay.” Max nodded. “Okay, fine. I won’t get rid of it.”

“Good.” Chloe shrugged. “And don’t stress out so much. I’m sure Queen Vicky will just  _ love _ whatever pretentious shit you send her way.”

“That’s why I wanted to send the black-and-white photo.” Max hesitated. “The one I took of you and Kate.”

“You mean the one you jumped back in freaking  _ time _ over?”

“I was gonna send it anyway!”

“Yeah, but...” Chloe hesitated as well. “Well, okay. You got me there. I guess it really is worth that much.”

“And it’s a great record of what our life’s become.” Max smiled. It seemed like forever since she’d had a real smile. She stood up and put her hand on Chloe’s arm, tracing her fingers over the extensive tattoo. “It’s a sign of what makes me happy. Or rather, who makes me happy.”

Chloe made an affectionate sound. “God, you’re such a softie.”

“I am what I am, Chloe.”

“Good.” Turning to face her fully, Chloe grinned and swept Max up into her arms. “Then in that case, I declare today’s search over! Time to celebrate with some pancakes!”

“Chloe, it’s eleven-thirty in the morning.”

“Max...” Pressing a hand to her breast, Chloe’s mouth went agape. “How dare you! That shit’s good any time of day! Or do y’all fancy folk from Seattle not eat breakfast after sunrise?”

“Chloe...”

“Freakin’ rich kid hipster trash...”

“Okay, you asked for it!” Showing no mercy, Max jumped onto Chloe’s back and locked her legs around her girlfriend’s waist. She shoved her hands into the other girl’s sides and proceeded to tickle her. Chloe buckled and yelped, but Max clung to dear life as they went tumbling back onto the couch. Chloe soon retaliated with a tickle barrage of her own, and then they were collapsed against each other, giggling and out of breath, with photographs scattered on the floor beside them.

* * *

Chloe was humming to herself in the kitchen. Max could hear her over the sizzle of pancake batter on the stove. The delicious aroma wafted over the counter and straight into Max’s nose. It took all her concentration to stay on the couch with her laptop and not jump the barrier for a quick bite from the stack Chloe was preparing.

With a sigh, Max turned back to her computer. She clicked the roller ball cursor over one of the six tabs she had open on her browser. Each site was a different search query, a different lead into the clue that Keisha had given her in a different time.

_ Praxis Industries, _ she’d told Max.  _ Look it up. It’s scary. _

So she did, even turning SafeSearch off.

What Max found was a cornucopia of conspiracy sites and 4chan-type forums where people shared creepy pictures of Bigfoot and other cryptids. She came across one blog where a dude claimed he had been forced to travel through time from the year 1963 into the present, but upon further inspection, Max learned that this was just an elaborate roleplay scenario by the blogger, who styled himself an aspiring playwright. Another forum featured a lively debate between an aging Usenet veteran and a Wiki vandal over the first recorded sightings of the Praxis Industries logo and which one was more genuine.

Speaking of which, Max didn’t like the logos she found on these sites. Her stomach churned over the sight of an artist’s rendering of a dog being put down or an old man being placed inside a coffin. And always, always, with the name  _ Praxis Industries _ emblazoned underneath.

Keisha had been scared when she talked about the company. She’d looked as sick as Max felt whenever she thought about the storm that could sweep away Arcadia Bay.

Whatever she’d seen went beyond what Max knew about time travel.

_ Maybe we should just stop here, _ Max thought. She ducked her head and rubbed at her temples.  _ Maybe it’d be simpler that way. Chalk the first jump up to a fluke and move on. _

Was knowing the truth going to make her happy? Was jumping further back going to help anyone? Max wanted to know, but she was scared to find out. Especially when the moment she had right now was so perfect. Chloe was rocking out to whatever song was in her head, flipping pancakes with the same flair as Joyce and occasionally shooting Max a devil-may-care grin.

If life were going to get any more perfect, Max would have to stop here.

“Order up!” Chloe called out. “These hotcakes are selling like...” She paused, and then grinned. “Well, like fuckin’ hotcakes. I dunno, shit. Hire a poet, not a short-order cook.”

Max made a show of closing her laptop and getting up from the couch. “Coming!”

But with every step into the kitchen, Max couldn’t ignore what she’d found. She saw Keisha’s worried face hovering in the air behind Chloe’s shoulder. And she had to reach over and clamp down on her right hand before it started trembling again.

* * *

“You feeling okay, Maxwell?” Chloe shot her an askew glance from the other end of the couch. “Your leg’s gonna twitch itself right off any second now.”

“Sorry.” Max willed her leg to be still. She leaned back and pushed her plate away on the coffee table, ignoring the crumbs she’d left there. “I, uh, guess I needed that pancake fix more than I realized.”

“Heh, you and me both.” Chloe grinned. “I’m a flapjack junkie. In and out of rehab, like, every damn week.”

Max felt an easy smile of her own appear. “No time for the old in-out, love. I’ve come to read the meter!”

“Holy shit, Max. Did you just make a  _ Clockwork Orange _ joke?”

“Chloe,  _ you _ insisted I watch it!”

“Well, yeah. But...” With a shrug, Chloe nudged her empty plate away with her foot. “I dunno. Just figured you were too skittish for that kind of fine cinema.”

“For what? Tits and gore?”

“Bingo!”

Max snorted. “Please. You should’ve seen what Warren and Dana were getting me to watch back in the day.”

“Ah, yes. There’s that refined Blackwell film school crowd you ran with.”

“See? You dropped out too early to find out.”

“Well, I...” Chloe opened her mouth, but no retort came out. She stopped and stared over at Max. With each passing second, a knot twisted itself in Max’s gut. She watched Chloe turn away and glare over at the blank TV screen.

Max dropped her head. “I’m... I’m sorry. Majorly uncool of me.”

“It was, but, y’know, it’s not your fault or anything.” Chloe kept her gaze on the blank TV screen. Both were equally hard to read. “I just... I don’t have great memories of Blackwell, Max. I met some good kids there, too. Same as you. But I don’t have the stellar course you took. I didn’t even have cool teachers like... er, well...”

“Like who?”

“Well, I...” Chloe blushed. “I was gonna say like Mark Jefferson, but that ship sailed a long-ass time ago.”

_ Always take the shot, _ his voice whispered in Max’s ear. She shivered.

“Yeah,” she answered. “I don’t hold a candle for him anymore.”

“You ever think about him?” Chloe’s tone went up a notch or two. She cast Max a sidelong glance, more questioning than accusing. “I’m not saying he deserves it, but you ever think about him after all those visions you got?”

“From Rachel?”

“Yeah.”

Max shook her head. “I don’t know. Glimpses. Little flashes of what could’ve been.” She pressed a hand to the side of her face, trying to support her head. “I... try not to think too hard about it.”

Chloe’s eyes flashed toward her. “Shit, I didn’t even realize, Max. Maybe you ought make an appointment with whatsername, that Lexi chick?”

Max fought to keep a whimper back behind her lips. Memories of that therapist’s office, with its sterile brown walls and coffee-colored couches, wore her down second by second. And always with that stupid little clock on the wall ticking away, even if it didn’t make any noise. Just the sight of it made Max want to tear her hair out and claw at the walls until her fingers bled.

“I think I’ll pass for now.” Max slumped back against the living room couch. “Can we talk about something else? Please?”

Chloe nodded. “Sure, Max. Whatever you need.”

Her hand crept over the couch as she scooted closer, and soon she was cuddling up against Max like a giant bony teddy bear. Max let herself be drawn into the embrace, savoring the heat from Chloe’s body and the sweet smell of her hair. Some fruity citrus concoction in her shampoo. It lulled Max toward a peaceful slumber. But falling asleep wasn’t so easy.

She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the other Max staring at her from the TV screen.

* * *

It was almost three in the afternoon when Max woke up again. She struggled to move under the dead weight of Chloe, snoring and close to drooling on Max’s shoulder. With a few determined wriggles, Max got free of her clingy girlfriend. She savored taking a deep breath and being able to stretch her arms over her head. Such small, simple pleasures in this life.

And yet, when she started thinking about it, her right hand trembled again.

Max frowned. Why did this stuff have to keep happening to her? What deity had she offended that it needed to kick her—and Chloe and Kate—around like this?

_ Maybe I’m making up for the sins of a past life. _ Max rolled her eyes.  _ Way to go, Alt-Max. You’re doing great, sweetie. _

She glanced to the side, just to be sure Chloe was still asleep. Not that Max minded her being awake, but she knew the recovering punk chick wouldn’t want to catch what she was about to do. Trying to channel the spirit of a ninja, Max crept off the couch and slid her hand into the pile of photographs, old and new, resting on the coffee table. She nudged away the pictures of the Hard Rock Cafe, the lighthouse, the roadside attractions outside Portland and Eugene, and the rock shows at Newport. Max ignored everything but the one tattered Polaroid she’d kept all these years.

It was, by all accounts, technically a selfie. A shot taken from behind, framing her head and shoulders as Max stared at a wall covered in photographs. Her old Memorial Wall at her dorm in Blackwell. Max traced her finger over her younger self’s hairline. God, when did she take this? It had to have been before that bad day in October. Maybe even as early as late September.

This, she decided, would be an interesting test. An experiment, nothing more. Just to find the answer to that age-old question, why did the chicken cross the road?

Max hesitated at first. She leaned forward and began picking through the other Polaroids on the coffee table. Her heart raced when she found the black-and-white photo of Chloe and Kate. Smiling at them, she saw Kate’s joy and Chloe’s teasing humor. But Max didn’t just see the good times. If she peered hard enough, she could almost see the scars and the sorrow in both girls. Visions of the other timelines, of death and dismay, spiraled through her brain. Max grimaced and shoved the photo inside her pocket. If nothing else, it’d serve as a reminder of why she was even risking this.

She picked up the selfie taken inside her Blackwell dorm.

“Sorry, Chloe,” Max murmured. “Sorry, Kate. I won’t be long. I promise.”

She stared down.

Seconds ticked by.

Nothing.

Max blew out a sigh. She rubbed a hand over her face, shrugging off the last remnants of her nap. Had to be focused for this. Had to give it everything she had.

She stared again.

Seconds ticked by.

Ever so slowly, the photo blurred itself out of focus. The behind shot of Max became a gray blur against a soft pink and red blur, and Max couldn’t tell where she ended and the sea of photographs began.

The red blur from the photo bled over the borders of her Polaroid.

Red blurred to white.

_ Whoosh. _

And once again, Max was gone.

* * *

_ Whoosh. _

Sound and color returned to the world. Max noticed all this in a single, headache-inducing moment that left her crouching down to the floor, and then dropping to her hands and knees. She pressed her forehead to the scratchy blue carpet that she once had known so well. Max let out a groan until the world decided to stop assaulting every one of her senses.

She tried opening her eyes and looking up.

The onetime Max Caulfield Memorial Wall looked as good as it ever did. Tons of pictures of her teen years in Seattle and scenic shots of the landscape at Blackwell, all taken shortly after her transfer was approved. But the longer Max stared, the more she realized her eyes weren’t quite adjusting.

And then she lifted her hand. It looked perfectly fine.

It was the world that had gone horrible.

A thick yellow haze surrounded Max like a bubble, like seeing a photo half-developed in someone’s darkroom chemical bath. Details floated in and out of focus behind the shimmering golden curtain, adding to the severity of Max’s headache. She groaned and clutched at her temples. There wasn’t enough Tylenol in the world for this misery.

_ Oh God, _ she thought.  _ What if this is all me? Did I totally mess up time? _

Max tried to stand. Her legs buckled under the strain, and she flailed her arm to grab for the nearest thing. It turned out to be the tripod holding up her camera, and Max let out a muffled “Shit!” as the retro camera was knocked off its mount and crashed onto the floor. She groaned and lifted her trembling right hand.

Another second to focus herself.

Time stopped.

And then, time flowed backward for a few seconds. The camera reassembled itself through the golden haze, now shifting to flashes of red, and Max watched the camera fly up and sit on top of the tripod, which now righted itself into a standing position. All while Max never once let go of it.

Impressive. Young Max could’ve done with this power to avoid so many clumsy moments and faux pas. She could’ve won  _ so _ many arguments with Victoria Chase.

_ Focus, Max, _ she reminded herself.  _ You’re here for a reason. _

Getting back to her feet, slowly this time, Max took several deep breaths. She didn’t have Chloe or Kate to lean into like before. Max waited until she felt steady on her feet. Then she took a step forward and reached a hand toward the constant warping and gleaming haze that blanketed her tiny dorm.

The haze distorted around her hand, like pushing it into a bowl of Jello. Max watched her hand reach through the nauseous light and grab onto the hard wooden surface of her top dresser drawer.

“Okay,” Max said to herself. “Okay. Let’s see if this works.”

She pulled the drawer open. Right away, she found yet another photograph sitting inside. An even older photo, taken years before the selfie that Max now inhabited. It was a Kodak film shot of a pre-teen Max and Chloe, dressed as pirates and hanging out at some local amusement park. She didn’t recognize the park; it had been years ago, and the photo didn’t offer much background detail, with the two girls’ faces taking up so much space, forcing up the narrative of their friendship.

Max touched her younger self’s face, lingering around the plastic eyepatch she wore in it. That Max had no clue of the world that would be yanked out from under her feet. She knew nothing of gunshots, ghosts, apocalyptic visions, or time travel.

_ Lucky her, _ Max thought.

She held onto the picture with both hands. Taking a long breath, she focused.

The picture blurred. In the distance, Max heard two girls laughing.

Then the photo flashed red. Red blurred to white. White flashed and blinded her.

And once again, she vanished.


	6. The Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max finds herself back in time with Chloe. She makes a new promise and sees what becomes of it.

“...Come on, Max! We gotta get on this one!” Chloe dragged Max by the hand, racing past rows of booths advertising everything from cotton candy to stuffed bears for winning the ring toss. “C’mon, don’t chicken out on me! This is gonna be a blast!”

“Whatever you say, Chloe!” Max couldn’t quite believe what was happening. She’d jumped back to another version of her old body. Her twelve-year-old body was small, skinny, and even more awkward than usual. The iron grip of Chloe’s hand around hers hurt in a way Max didn’t anticipate. But she knew better than to tear her hand away. Between all the dizzying sights, sounds, and smells of the carnival, she wasn’t sure if she’d end up feeling any better standing on her own.

Better to let Chloe take the lead, just like always.

They headed toward the Tilt-A-Whirl, which Chloe dubbed the “Spinning Wheel of Death!” Max felt ready to lose her lunch, but then she remembered a little more of this day. Not half an hour ago, in the parking lot, Max and Chloe had sworn a pact to avoid getting sick on the rides by skipping most of the candy and sweets being offered them. They’d reward themselves with tons of cotton candy and root beer floats once they conquered the “Big Three” of carnival rides first.

Even now, as she followed a giddy, long-haired Chloe Price into line for the Tilt-A-Whirl, Max had to admire the pure, unadulterated joy on her friend’s face. This was a Chloe she got to see in little spurts later in life. This wasn’t the guarded Chloe, the wounded Chloe. Max wanted to close her eyes and just savor her best friend’s careless chatter, but she stayed alert and smiled through the whole thing.

Besides, she was supposed to be a twelve-year-old kid now. She had to play the part.

When the carnie helped the girls into their seats and buckled them in, Max flashed Chloe a smile and a thumbs-up. “Ready!”

“Sure thing, Max.” Chloe smiled, revealing a set of braces that Max had almost entirely forgotten about. “Just remember, I’m not gonna hold up your hair when you totally hurl!”

“Ugh, some friend you are!”

“You know it!” Chloe winked.

Max’s follow-up retort was lost to a sudden squeal as the Tilt-A-Whirl lurched into motion. Chloe’s hand tightened around hers.

“Heck yeah!” Chloe cheered. “Let’s do this thing!”

Faster and faster they spun, as their little car shuddered with the rush of gravity-defying twists and turns. Max closed her eyes and kicked her feet, laughing out of fear and joy at the same time. She heard Chloe laughing, too, and she knew that this was fine. But of course it’d be fine. Why wouldn’t she be fine? They were only twelve-year-olds out for a good time on a Saturday. There was nothing malicious about this. Nothing to worry about. No storm clouds on the horizon.

Max didn’t get sick once during the fast-spinning ride. As terrible as she’d felt before, she forgot all about sinister teachers and photography superpowers. None of that existed except for the gentle weight of Chloe’s hand.

* * *

“Having fun, girls?”

Max nearly froze when she heard that voice. She stumbled into Chloe, who hadn’t once let go of her as they laughed and tried to walk off the ride.

When she turned around, Max tried not to gape. Tried not to lose her cool. Because who else should be there but William Price, fresh-faced and grinning as he walked up to the two girls, hand-in-hand with Joyce? Max wanted to cry at the sight of Chloe’s dad. He looked so happy now. So gentle and carefree as Max remembered him. She hadn’t even made it to the funeral after the car accident, so she didn’t even have that bitter memory. But she knew it was still coming.

Only a few months to go, she realized.

“It’s been the coolest, Dad!” Chloe declared. She lifted her hand in victory, more or less yanking up Max with her. “And Max here wasn’t scared even once!”

“Gee, thanks!” Max responded. Still, she couldn’t keep from grinning either.

William laughed and reached down to sling his arm around Chloe’s shoulders. The slightly happy, slightly pissed look on her face was priceless. “Atta girl! Show ’em how the Price family laughs in the face of danger!”

“Ha ha!” Chloe added, right on cue.

Meanwhile, Joyce had turned and knelt down to readjust Max’s slightly crooked eyepatch. She smiled and brushed her hand through Max’s hair. “You feeling okay, sweetie? You know your mom’s only a few minutes away.”

Max shook her head. “I’m okay. Chloe just likes to tease.”

“Mm. That she does.” Joyce stood and nudged Max closer with a gentle swat of her hand. “Well, if you ever need a break, you just say the word, hon. I don’t think anyone else’s gonna judge you for that.” She took one glance at the Tilt-A-Whirl and shuddered. “I can’t believe they let _children_ on that thing.”

“Now, now, dear,” William chided. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Back at the diner, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, come now! It’s your day off!” William drew her close with an arm around her waist. “And mine, too! I’m sure we can afford to live a little!”

Joyce fixed with a glare, but the smile on her lips betrayed her. “Well, maybe you can with _your_ salary...”

“That’s more like it!” William leaned in to kiss Joyce on the cheek. They laughed.

Chloe, meanwhile, shut her eyes. “Ugh, please. Not here, guys...”

“Chloe, I’ll only get to embarrass you for so much longer.” William teased back her pirate hat and ruffled the hair underneath. “Enjoy it while it lasts!”

“Ugh...!”

Max, however, didn’t mind watching this little family display. She remembered so many days like this. It was amazing how often she’d forgotten the good times before Chloe’s shooting and the strange visions that followed Rachel’s haunting. Ever since then, Max had been searching for mementos and keepsakes of her youth. For the girls she and Chloe had been, and not just the women they’d become.

She wondered if she could see into Kate’s life at this age. Then again, considering her strict Biblical household dynamic, Max decided that she might not want to peek into that particular hornet’s nest.

Wearing another easy grin, Max followed the Price family over the picnic tables, where they joined the buffet line for watermelon slices, fried chicken, and a ton of other carnival-standard foods. Joyce tried to lecture Chloe on stuffing herself with fast food instead of the fruit dishes and lemonade, but all she got in return was a sly wink between Chloe and William as they raced to pile their plates high with corn dogs and mustard. Max giggled behind her hand as they snatched one dog after another, both trying to look so nonchalant in the act.

The afternoon sunlight scorched the air around them as they finished off their food and their Dixie cups full of lemonade. Joyce and William leaned in close, murmuring their conversation away from innocent ears on their end of the picnic table. Meanwhile, Chloe was bending Max’s ear with endless chatter.

“...So, like, first thing I figure we’re gonna do is win ourselves that stuffed octopus!” Chloe gestured in the direction of a nearby ball-tossing booth, where giant purple octopus hung on the wall. “I mean, how cool would that be? You an’ me are gonna be the only pirates on the high seas with our very own kraken! We’ll score tons more booty with our trained sea creature!”

“Sounds about right,” Max remarked. She forgot how hungry being twelve made her. Her appetite was unparalleled at that age, trying to wolf down so many calories. She stopped herself from trying to steal a French fry off Chloe’s plate.

But Max knew this day couldn’t last forever. As fun as it was to run around and enjoy herself, she had other responsibilities. She thought about the other Chloe, and Kate, too. What were they both doing? Did Chloe wake up and see Max had vanished into thin air? Or was there another Max in her place, doing things on her own terms? If so, how was any of this going to get resolved?

But so far, Max hadn’t changed anything. Nothing so far was out of the ordinary for this day at the Arcadia Bay fair.

 _So,_ Max decided, _what if we changed that?_

* * *

Street lamps flashed by overhead as Max stared out the backseat window of William’s car. She tried not to think about the implications of being in this car. This family sedan held so many good memories, along with one overpowering bad memory. An accident that hadn’t happened yet. Chloe’s tears and rage wouldn’t manifest yet. But they would soon. Max wasn’t there for it, but she knew it was coming. She could already imagine it, even while looking over at her pre-teen friend sitting beside her, twiddling her thumbs over a match with Bowser on her Gameboy.

“Hey, Chloe?” Max glanced over at William and Joyce, who were chatting and listening to a smooth listening station on the radio. Even so, she kept her voice low. “Chloe, I—”

“Oh, come _on!_ ” Chloe hissed through her teeth. “Ugh! Can’t believe I missed that jump!”

A twinge of guilt hit Max right between the shoulder blades. “Bummer.”

“Sure is.” Tossing her Gameboy onto the leather surface between them, Chloe glanced over at Max with a forced grin. “What’s on your mind, Max?”

“Well, it’s...” Max swallowed. Crap. How _was_ she going to tell her this? _Hey, I’m not crazy, but I can travel through time and I know how your dad’s gonna die?_

Not in a million years. Not in this stage of their friendship.

Six years ahead, Chloe would believe her. She’d see the truth with her own eyes.

But not today.

“I, uh, didn’t want to ruin today with this, but I guess I’m kinda worried,” Max finally admitted.

“Worried? What about?” Chloe slung her arm around Max’s shoulder, just like how William would’ve done it. “You’re, like, an awesome companion for adventures!”

“Y-yeah.” Max blushed. “You, too.”

“And?”

“And...” Max swallowed again. _Come on. Think fast._

“It’s my parents,” she said, thinking as fast as she could speak. “I heard them talking one night, and...” She chewed on her bottom lip. “Chloe, I think they might be talking about moving away. To, like, Seattle.”

Chloe’s eyes grew wide. “What? No way, Max! You can’t leave!” She shook her head. “Dude, things are starting to get cool at school! We’re, like, gonna blow the roof off!”

“I know...” Taking another breath, Max had to fight back actual tears. Jesus, but seeing Chloe this excitable hurt. She had no idea what lay ahead. “I... I think it’s only an idea. They... they might not actually do it, you know? It’s just...” She sighed and pressed her hands into her face. “I’m just scared, okay? I... I don’t wanna leave you either.”

“Then don’t.” Chloe’s voice came out so soft that Max almost didn’t hear it. She turned and saw her friend staring back with a trembling bottom lip. Her hand went to pat Max on the back, which turned into a gentle rubbing motion that Max never wanted to end.

“Chloe, I can’t—”

“Sure you can.” Chloe’s lips pressed into a thin line. “You go right up and you tell ’em, ‘Dudes, no _way_ am I gonna leave the bestest, coolest chick I’ve ever known!’” Her face lit up with a sudden grin. “And then you tell ’em, ‘You can’t go to Seattle unless you wanna pay for a ticket for Chloe, so that we can go conquer the Space Needle! And stay up past midnight! And—’”

“Chloe!” Max let out a giggle. She covered her mouth, but the damage was done. She leaned back and regarded her friend with tears in her eyes. “I... thanks for that.”

“Anytime, Max.” Before she could stop her, Chloe had both arms around Max. They leaned into each other, and Max closed her eyes.

“I swear,” she told Chloe, “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll...” Her lips curved into a smile. “I’ll convince my mom and dad. They’ll get it.”

“I’m sure they will...” Chloe’s voice seemed to come from a distance. Max felt the entire world begin to dissolve into that white void again. She saw a flash of red over Chloe’s face as the young girl’s voice let out one last line.

“ _Who would resist someone as cute as you, Max...?_ ”

* * *

_Whoosh._

The world snapped back into focus again. Max let out a sigh and clutched at her thighs. She felt the familiar scratchy surface of denim. Traveling her hands up, she felt the soft gray hoodie that she’d come to love all through her time at Blackwell. She breathed in and out slowly, settling her nerves—and more importantly, her stomach—as the world came back into view.

But she didn’t see the apartment anywhere.

Max sat on a cot in the middle of a giant gymnasium. She needed a minute to process the fact that it was for a high school she didn’t recognize. But when she looked around, Max held her breath.

She didn’t see kids cheering for a basketball game.

What she saw were dozens of cots. Row upon row, all featuring kids her age or younger. Some cots held adults, all crying and holding onto each other as they examined keepsakes in their hands or tried on clothing from a pile of Goodwill donations. Beyond the cots, flanking the entire scene, were white tents with red crosses emblazoned on them. Through the gauzy tent walls, Max could see figures moving around. She heard machines beep, and when she listened a little longer, she heard distant groans and crying.

This wasn’t home.

This wasn’t even a school.

This was a disaster zone.

Max felt tears of her own forming. She pressed hand to her mouth.

 _God forgive me,_ she thought. _What did I do?_

* * *

Max wandered through the gym, looking and feeling more like a zombie than half the people stuck here. She occasionally spotted people who weren’t volunteers moving around, wearing armbands and patches from state and local relief offices. They ignored Max as she pushed her way over to a corner of the gym, where a cluster of kids sat around. Some of them wept, and some stared blankly at the polished floorboards. And some just scrolled relentlessly on their phones for news of the outside world.

Max’s heart skipped a beat when she recognized one of the girls. She pressed a hand to her chest, trying to remember how to breathe.

“Dana?” she asked. “Dana, is that you?”

The girl who looked up from her cot didn’t seem like the perky, well-dressed cheerleader Max remembered living in her dorm. That Dana was a bright side to the Vortex Club clique, a beacon of light in an otherwise dismal troupe of bored rich kids. But this Dana was someone’s poorly made Xerox copy, printed out in grayscale. She didn’t wear as much makeup, and instead of high-end fashion, she wore a grungy Blackwell sweater and a pair of blue jeans that were one size too big. In her hand was a phone. At least that had survived the fallout.

“Max,” Dana exclaimed softly. Without hesitation, she rose to her feet and threw her arms around the shorter girl. “Oh my God, I’m never been happier to see you! Oh, thank God! Thank God...!”

“Dana...” Max swallowed. She inhaled a bit of Dana’s perfume, which had survived the unknown catastrophe, too. “I... I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner.”

“Don’t worry about that now.” Dana held her at arm’s length to marvel over Max. “You look good. I wish I could say the same about me.” Her eyes dropped. “Wish I felt as good, too.”

“Dana, I... I need your help.”

“What’s wrong, Max?”

“I...” And, crap, here was another dilemma. How could she even tell Dana what she’d been through? Time travel and photo-jumping would make her seem like she’d lost her mind. Dana would just as quickly turn Max over to one of the nearby trauma nurses for a cranial exam or something.

Then again, in that fear was something Max could use.

“Dana,” she said, “I... I think I hit my head pretty hard earlier.” Max made a show of grimacing when she touched her forehead. Dana winced on her behalf. “I’m having trouble, like, remembering what’s happened. I think I lost a day or two.”

“Oh, you poor thing...”

Max wanted to tell her, _Don’t pity me, I might have gotten us into this mess._ Instead, she held her tongue. Self-pity and guilt trips were easily two sides to the same coin. That was one of the few things she’d picked up from the literature that therapist, Lexi, had given her. God, just thinking back to that therapy session made Max feel old. She checked her hands for arthritis and found none. Even so, she felt ancient. Every breath she took used up so much energy. Her head was pounding, and so was her heart. It was a miracle that she could even stand up.

“Yeah, so...” Max lowered herself onto the cot, and Dana joined her. “If you wouldn’t mind, could you maybe answer a few questions for me?”

Dana’s eyes softened. She laid her hand over Max’s shoulder. “Of course. Max, you’ve always been, like, a super-awesome friend. I swear, I won’t let you down.”

Max winced. This time, the pain in her head was real. She closed her eyes for a second before she nodded. “Th-thanks, Dana. I... I know you’re a good friend, too. A-and, you know, thanks for being so patient.”

“Sure, Max.” Dana spread her fingers on her lap. “So, where do you want me to start?”

Shifting in her seat, Max replied, “From the beginning. How did we even end up here?”


	7. Break It Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max is at her wit's end. Between one timeline and another, she races to fix what she broke and find a world where she, Chloe, and Kate are all alive and happy.

“When the storm hit, we had, like, no warning whatsoever. Just _bam!_ Instant death tornado!” Dana shivered, and Max shifted closer to her on the cot. Poor girl seemed starved for real human contact. Max didn’t mind letting Dana wrap her arms around her while they talked. It seemed like the least she could do for her.

_Except that’s not true,_ Max reminded herself. _I could do more. I could have prevented this._

“Max, I... I’d never seen anything like it before.” Dana’s voice was low and shaky, but Max could hear her fine over the constant background chatter of a hundred or more survivors crammed into the school gymnasium. “Like, thank God we were all at the party when it hit, you know?” Dana shook her head, almost smiling. “I never thought a Vortex Club night would save my life.”

“Yeah, that’s... something.”

“And, like, the whole building shook for _hours_ and hours,” Dana continued. Her hand dug itself around Max’s wrist, like she was trying to feel for Max’s pulse. “I was so scared I was gonna die there.”

“Dana, I... I’m sorry.” The words left Max’s mouth before she could stop herself. And with those words came the tears, spilling down her cheeks and into her t-shirt. She sniffled, and she tried to wipe them away with her sleeve. No chance of that. Her face was tight and hot, and she couldn’t hold back the rest of her tears. Max fell against Dana, becoming a sobbing gross mess to the point that Dana was the one who had to comfort her.

“Hey.” Dana’s warm voice filled Max’s ears. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. It’s not your fault. You’re gonna be... gonna be just fine...”

Sweet as it was to hear it, Max knew better. She couldn’t even bear to look at her right hand. Just the thought of it trembling with all that time-warping power made her sick. Better to just chop it off and never look back.

But she _had_ to go back. Just not yet.

“S-sorry,” Max answered. Lifting her head, she met Dana’s eyes and sniffled. “I... I think I’m starting to remember all this.”

“Not fun, is it?” Dana sounded bitter, but it didn’t match the tender smile on her face. She patted Max on the back. “You sure you’re okay to hear more?”

“Yes, please.” Max swallowed. “Break it down, Dana. As... as much as you can bear to tell me.”

Dana sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her sleeve. “Okay.”

* * *

The story didn’t get better. Neither did Max.

Through tearful, sob-choked words, Dana continued to relate what had happened. While the worst of the storm came and went within a single night, the casualties didn’t stop there. So many of the town’s residents died from collapsing roofs, crumbling drywall, flooded bedrooms, and the worst outbreak of pneumonia in recent memory. It took a long pause from Dana for Max to gather that her friend Juliet Watson had been one of the unlucky kids hit by pneumonia. She didn’t have to ask for details. Max’s guilt-riddled brain was already painting her a picture of poor Juliet, gasping for air and slowly fading in some Red Cross bed while Dana held her hand and begged her to stay.

But that didn’t answer her biggest question. How was Max still alive?

“You sent us all a text right when the storm hit,” Dana explained. She brushed her hand through her unkempt hair. “Told us to head for the lighthouse. We’d be safer there than trapped down below, you said. I really don’t know why, though.”

“I guess I don’t remember it myself.” Max’s face flushed red, and she turned away. “Seems stupid to think about it now.”

“You’re not stupid, Max.”

“You don’t know that.” Max shook her head, shut her eyes against the pain swelling inside of her. “I... I’ve made a lot of mistakes lately, Dana. I keep... I keep messing up. And I don’t know how to stop...”

Only minutes ago, from her perspective, she’d been playing with Chloe. She’d been making promises to never leave the Bay, to stay by her side forever. Surely, that’d fix so much, wouldn’t it? Without Max, Chloe entered a spiral of sadness and despair that led to her near-death in the bathroom with Nathan. Without Max, Chloe would cling to Rachel Amber, who’d go missing and rip her heart open years later. Without Max, Kate would never get a real friend, and Jefferson’s machinations would lead her to jumping from the roof just to end it all.

But none of it mattered now. Jefferson could’ve been dead, arrested, or on the run. Rachel Amber could’ve been alive or dead, like that poor cat stuck inside the box. Max had made a choice, but how could she have known it would all lead to this?

_I should have died, too,_ she caught herself thinking. _Or maybe I could have never been born. Yeah, no Max to mess up Chloe’s life. No Max to break time and space because she had “good intentions” or some bullshit like that..._

“Max?”

Dana’s voice startled Max back into reality. She gasped and clutched at her friend’s hand, clinging on for dear life.

“Sorry!” Max cast a sheepish glance. “Sorry, I’m stuck in my head today.”

“Don’t worry,” Dana replied. She leaned in again and hugged Max for a long time. The warmth between their bodies was a relief. Max could close her eyes and breathe. This, she could handle. Dana wasn’t browbeating her. She didn’t know. She couldn’t know. And Max decided it was better that way.

After letting go, Max cleared her throat. She fought to keep her head clear a little while longer. Had to push forward.

“Tell me,” she said, “did... did you ever hear what happened to Chloe Price?” Max swallowed. “Or... Kate Marsh?”

“They, um, didn’t make it.” Dana brushed aside a lock of hair. “I’m sorry.”

Max’s face grew hot and tight again, but she didn’t let the tears fall. Not yet.

“How?” she asked.

Dana’s hesitation only made it worse. “They... they went ahead. Kate said she was gonna meet you two at the lighthouse, but the storm was so bad...” With a whimper, Dana reached out and grabbed both of Max’s hands. Squeezed them so tight that they hurt. “Max, you can’t... you can’t blame yourself, okay?” Now Dana was fighting tears again. “The... the lighthouse collapsed all on its own. It wasn’t your fault, I swear! There was no way you could’ve...”

Max could barely hear her anymore. What had started as a low rumble in her ears grew in pitch and volume, turning into an intense, skull-splitting whine that threatened to make her brain burst. She clutched at the sides of her head, trying with all her might to hold back the scream that she knew would have everyone staring at her.

“Max!” Dana’s arms were around her again, and Max thanked God for the embrace. It stopped her from doing anything stupid. She dropped her face into Dana’s shoulder and wept. Dana shushed her while stroking her back.

In her head, Max didn’t have any more self-recriminations to offer. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine waking up in the bedroom with Chloe and Kate beside her. Tried to imagine it so hard that, just maybe, it might become real again. But when that bright future didn’t come to pass, Max could only see the hazy yellow bubble that covered her dorm room walls at Blackwell. She saw the photos pinned above her bed, the hundreds of photos she’d taken.

Every photo was a door.

Every photo was a way out.

Every photo was a second chance.

Max would take every chance she had.

* * *

Sometime later, after Dana took a much-needed nap, Max slipped away to a private corner of the gym. Or, at least, as private a corner as she could find. Hard to manage with the families and survivors crammed inside, but there was a spot behind a medical tent that she could use.

Max stared down at the selfie in her hand. That damned selfie of herself, taken from behind, as she stared at the Memorial Wall.

So fucking pretentious, wasn’t it?

Max took a deep breath. She concentrated. Imagined time swirling around her right hand. Her eyes bore down on the shot of the back of her own head.

_Little pieces of time,_ Jefferson’s voice murmured inside her head. _Are you sure you know how to collect them all?_

_Shut up,_ Max snarled back. _You don’t matter anymore._

_Such attitude,_ the ex-teacher responded. _It’s a shame you never paid more attention in class, Max. You might’ve seen all this coming, too._

Max had no response to that.

She stared at herself, and the photo finally snapped into focus with a flash of white.

_Whoosh._

* * *

When the world finally snapped back into view, Max clamped a hand over her mouth. She was not about to throw up here. No matter how vicious each ride was, she could handle this. If the other Max could do what she’d done, why not this Max, too?

_Christ,_ she thought, _how many Maxes are there, anyway?_

It didn’t matter. What mattered was where she was. Max stood up and looked around the nexus of spacetime that was her dorm room. She saw the now-familiar yellow haze that permeated her room. The Memorial Wall was still intact over her bed, and the camera behind her still rested on its tripod. Max wanted to smash the camera and see if that’d make a difference. Maybe if she never became a photographer, she wouldn’t have these powers in the first place.

_You won the jackpot,_ Rachel’s voice whispered from behind her.

Max spun around. There was no one there.

Goddammit, she was losing it.

“I won’t give up,” she promised, both to herself and to Chloe and Kate, wherever they were now. Max fought back another sob as she stepped away from the camera.

But then she saw the camera’s open photo slot. A fresh Polaroid was still hanging from the tray, the very same selfie that Max had considered entering into the Everyday Heroes contest. And now, the same photo she’d used to jump back to this place. Twice.

If she tore it up, what would happen?

Her best option was that this nightmare would end. Everything would go back to normal. Back to life with Chloe and Kate, free of storms and apocalyptic visions. But the worst case scenario was that Max would trap herself in this loop. She’d never get another chance to rewind. She’d be stuck between worlds, between one plane of reality and another. And in one or more realities, Chloe would be dead. Kate would be dead. Juliet Watson would die of pneumonia, and countless others would be homeless.

And all for what? So that Max could go back and make Chloe happy for a few years?

_Do it,_ Jefferson’s voice whispered, disturbingly close to her ear. _Take the shot._

She didn’t hesitate. Max reached out and yanked the photo free. Gripping it both hands, she ripped the selfie in half.

The world began to fade to white once more, and Max surrendered herself to the void.

_Whoosh._

A flash of red before the world came rushing back again.

* * *

She woke up a low rumble. It made the ground beneath her shake, and Max tried to lift her hands. Except she couldn’t move them at all. She groaned and tried to open her eyes. But all she saw was darkness. Panic set in, and her breath came in short and fast. She struggled to kick her legs, flail her arms, do literally anything except lie there and let the crushing weight of stone and concrete bear down on her.

Slowly, the weight over Max’s head and chest came into view. She recognized faint lines of concrete in the darkness over her head. Her fingers brushed against jagged pieces of what felt like something similar. Perhaps drywall. She couldn’t even turn her head to confirm it.

_Oh God,_ Max thought. _Oh Jesus no. I’ve buried myself alive. How the fuck did I do this?_

A voice—it sounded like Chloe’s—told her to stay calm. Max listened to that voice. She took another breath, slowing it down as she exhaled. Had to conserve air. Had to save her strength. No second chances if she died here. How would she even rewind? Unless her power somehow kept her alive, too? But what were the odds she’d end up trapped here in the first place? Max didn’t know what was real anymore.

She listened for Chloe’s voice again, but it didn’t come. Another minute passed before Max realized that she hadn’t actually heard it. She’d only imagined it.

Great. Wonderful. She was buried alive _and_ going crazy.

That rumble from outside her prison returned. This time, it grew louder. Max strained to listen for more clues. For some sign of the outside world.

And then, she heard it. A distant voice.

“ _I’ve got one!_ ” the voice said. “ _They’re under here!_ ”

“Here...!”  Max tried to shout, but her throat was parched and raspy. It came out as more of a wheezing groan. “Under _here...!_ ”

The rumble stopped.

Then the piles of concrete and stone were ripped away. Max shut her eyes against the sudden bright lamps that filled her view. She found that she could move her hand, and she tried to block out the intense light. It was so pure and white that, for one second, she thought she might’ve accidentally jumped through time again. Max grit her teeth as a pair of strong hands kept pulling away the rubble, and then someone else’s hands were gently pulling her free.

“Ma’am?” Someone shined a flashlight into her eyes. Max blinked and tried to keep them closed. “Ma’am, it’s going to be all right. Can you please tell me your name?”

“My name...?” Max swallowed. She had no saliva, and the motion only hurt her throat more. “Uh... Max. M-Max Caulfield...”

“Max, do you know what day it is?”

“No...”

“It’s Friday. October eleventh. Max, do you when your birthday is?”

“It...” Max swallowed again. “It’s, uh, September twenty-first...”

“And the year?”

She didn’t answer. Her head was swimming, and the lights around her were starting to merge together.

“Max, stay with me. What year?”

“2015...?” Max groaned. She put a hand to her forehead. “I’m sorry, I... I can’t...”

“We’re losing her. She’s sustained severe cranial trauma. Probably a lack of oxygen. Howard, get her up. Philip, bring the stretcher.” The authoritative voice seemed to retreat into the distance, hiding behind the white lights, as more strong hands pulled Max into the air and deposited her onto something hard and plastic. Some kind of gurney, she imagined. And it was only then that her brain pieced together that these were EMTs. They were rescuing her.

Rescuing her from what? She’d ask them herself, if only her throat worked.

The lights continued to swim and follow Max around the edges of the stretcher as the paramedics carried her off. Her eyes tried to squint and focus on the world beyond the lights, just like she’d done with the photograph. Max saw a world of gray. She heard waves crashing and felt drops splashing over her face. So, those things told her she was near the ocean, and that it was raining. Okay. She could work with that. She could handle that. With each passing second, the gray resolved itself into more details. Max saw leaves falling from nearby trees, and she saw the light blue uniforms of her rescuers. Their shoulders were marked with the logo of the Arcadia Bay Medical Center.

Max recognized that place. She recognized that name. It was where Chloe had been taken after she was shot at Blackwell. And where they’d sent Kate after she’d tried to jump off the roof at—

_Wait,_ Max thought, _no, that didn’t happen, right? She’s alive. She’s..._

She couldn’t remember. She didn’t know where Kate and Chloe were, to be honest. It was hard to think. Everything hurt now. Her head felt ready to explode, and Max had half a mind to warn the EMTs about that possibility.

Except, when they came to the ambulance, Max turned her head to the side.

She shouldn’t have done it.

She couldn’t even scream.

When her eyes found the pair of body bags on the ground, highlighted by the red flashing lights of the medical transport, Max wanted to rip her eyes from her head. She wanted to kick and yell and shove the other men away.

There were necklaces on top of the body bags.

One was a trio of bullet shells with a string run through them.

The other was a tarnished gold cross.

Max couldn’t stop crying when the first responders loaded her inside. She cried and cried until the vehicle took off, and something black and heavy filled her head. Max let the sudden darkness carry her off, and she remembered nothing more.

* * *

When she woke up again, Max didn’t have a gymnasium for shelter. She didn’t see Dana or Warren or Victoria. No familiar faces surrounded her in the emergency medical station, where a dark-haired nurse was inserting an IV into her arm. The needle hurt, but not as much as the sudden memory of what had happened when the EMTs found her. Max began to cry again, and the nurse did her best to console her.

When Max asked what had happened, the nurse offered a sympathetic frown.

“I’m sorry, dear,” she answered. “We did our best to find you, but there were so many other survivors we had to gather first. Otherwise, we might have been able to find you and your friends in time.”

“Find us?” Max blinked. Whatever was in the IV felt good, but she also remembered a Max who woke up in another white room. That Max hated needles. She hated whatever drug Jefferson kept dosing her with, over and over. Even so, she fought the drug in her veins to keep herself awake and hanging on the nurse’s every word.

“We found you at the lighthouse,” the nurse continued. “I don’t know what you three were doing there, but that’s where your friend Joyce said we’d find you. She got your text, you see.”

Joyce. Joyce was alive. Max wanted to cry with joy for that fact alone, but she held it in. She couldn’t even imagine facing her.

_I’m sorry I got your daughter killed._

No, Max was not about to let that reality stay true. She’d fix this. She’d get better, and then she’d jump back to the nexus, and then she’d—

She’d do nothing.

One final image burned itself into Max’s brain. She stood once more in her old dorm room at Blackwell, ripping a selfie in half and watching the nexus fade away in a sea of white light, like the wrath of God falling to earth.

Max didn’t have any more tears left. She settled her head back on her pillow, and her nurse checked her vitals one more time before going to see her next patient.

“Fuck my life,” Max whispered to herself. More like at herself. She deserved it.

If she thought hard enough, between her guilt and the IV in her arm, Max could almost picture Rachel Amber sitting on top of a supply crate across the triage center. Rachel Amber, wearing her trademark red flannel and ripped-up blue jeans. Rachel Amber, whose cold eyes lingered on Max. It didn’t seem possible someone could look so hateful, but if anyone deserved it now, then it was Max Caulfield, the worst person of the century.

_Max,_ said Rachel, her lips never once moving, _you had a gift. And this is how you use it?_

“I tried...”

_There is no try, Padawan. Get that through your thick skull._

“But then what am I...?”

Rachel stood. Her ghost crossed the empty space until it came to rest beside Max’s hospital bed, and then Rachel leaned forward to stare Max dead in the face.

_Appreciate what you have,_ Rachel answered. _Cherish it every day. Stop trying to control things. Stop trying to hold on. Just, don’t be a hero. Be Max Caulfield, okay?_

“Rachel, I...”

But by the time she summoned the words, Max wasn’t looking at Rachel anymore. In a heartbeat, the ghost had vanished again. There one minute, and gone the next. Maybe she really had been just a hallucination. Maybe the visions were finally over now.

_And if that’s the case,_ Max thought, _I’ve been talking to myself just now._

Her head dropped to her pillow. She turned and glanced over at the side. Let her eyes drift shut. Easier to move her head, at least. Or maybe all this guilt and heartbreak was just softening the head trauma she’d sustained. Hard to tell the difference anymore.

Max’s eyes flashed open.

She focused on what was in front of her.

She recognized her old clothes sitting in a pile on the chair beside her bed. Her gray hoodie, torn up and bloodied. Her blue jeans. Her sneakers. And sure enough, right there on top of all of them—

A black-and-white photo of Chloe Price and Kate Marsh.

Max’s heart leapt in her throat. She reached out and tried to grab the photo. With a groan, she clutched at her side. It took several minutes for her to catch her breath and make the room stop spinning. She waited for the nausea to pass before grimacing and turning to look at the photo again. With extra care, she moved her hand along her bed and over to the pile of clothes beside her.

This time, she grabbed the photo without stumbling.

Max didn’t believe this had survived. She didn’t even remember shoving it into her pocket. Only the selfie had mattered. Her window to the portals across time. Slowly, she recalled shoving this other picture into her back pocket. A reminder, she’d told herself, of what she was trying to fix.

But here was one last chance.

Max closed her eyes. She wasn’t religious. Maybe a little superstitious, but she’d never been raised to believe in God, in whatever form He or She took. Even so, she found herself clutching the photo to her chest and murmuring some kind of a prayer.

“Please...” she whispered. “Please let me... let me see them again...”

Opening her eyes again, Max stared at the black-and-white image.

Shadows and lights blurred together. She heard the distant sound of their laughter, and she willed herself to be there, to be alongside them once again. Max swore she’d never try this again. She’d do whatever God or Rachel or the universe wanted her to do now. Just so long as she got this one chance to go home again.

The world flashed red around her. Then red shifted into white.

_Whoosh._

And she was gone again.


	8. All You Ever Needed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max thinks she might've fixed everything. Only one way to find out for sure.

Max stared down at the camera in her hand. She struggled not to drop it, but her hands were shaking so badly. She blinked a few times, waiting for her eyes to clear. That white-hot glare still lingered. Her ears hadn’t started working yet, but the more she strained, the more Max could hear a faint murmur of voices from somewhere beyond the glare. She needed to hear those voices, to know that she hadn’t fucked up again. Her hands tightened, and she didn’t drop the camera when she lowered it from her face.

“...Seriously, Chloe, if you don’t move, I’m gonna lose all the feeling in my legs.” Kate still sat in the armchair. Her hand brushed away a strand of hair from her ear, and she tried to nudge the punk fiend from her lap.

“Like you’d ever get rid of lil ol’ me,” Chloe retorted. She turned and winked at Max. “So, hipster queen, what’s the verdict? Yay or nay...?”

Her words trailed off. Max took a cautious step back.

“Um, Max?” Kate shook her head. “What’s the matter?”

“I...” Max cleared her throat. Taking a step back, she placed her camera on the kitchen countertop. The more she paused, the more focused her world came back into view. It was their apartment, same as it ever was. No more triage tents and bright lights, no more carnival booths and collapsed lighthouses. She recognized every single rock show poster that Chloe had ever tacked up to the walls, and they were so beautiful that Max wanted to start crying.

“Max?” Chloe hauled herself back to her feet and off of Kate’s lap. She beat a fast march to the kitchen, her face twisting around in concern. “Hey. What’s wrong? Are... are you feeling okay?”

“No, I...” Max stopped. She was about to do it again.  _ No, Chloe, I’m fine, can’t you tell? _ That tired bullshit she’d been spouting her whole life, every time she had a flare-up of anxiety in the middle of a social interaction. Every time she’d faced a bad grade on a test or a sudden act of scrutiny from her parents, Max’s heart would start its own one-person dubstep concert, complete with fog machine to keep her brain from working, too. But when she looked into Chloe’s eyes, Max knew she couldn’t keep this up for long.

“Max, c’mon.” Chloe’s hands landed on her shoulders, pulling her close. “You look like you saw a ghost.” After a pause, Chloe added, “Uh, tell me it wasn’t Rachel?”

From the armchair, Kate rose and clasped her hands together. “Max, you look pale. Sh... should we get you to a hospital?”

“No. No, I... I just...” Sniffling, Max wiped at her nose with the back of her hand. She was weirdly pleased to see she wasn’t wearing her old gray hoodie and blue jeans anymore. Chloe’s borrowed punk t-shirt was an odd relief right then. Looking up, Max tried to smile. “S-sorry. I... I think my head’s a little woozy right now.”

“Okay.” Chloe didn’t look convinced, but she squeezed Max’s shoulders. “So...?”

“So, I think I’m just gonna hop into the shower real quick, try and clear my head?” Max winced when she touched her scalp. It didn’t actually hurt, not nearly as much as it had on her last few jumps. The gesture seemed to help, since Chloe stepped back and gave her a clear path to the bathroom.

Meanwhile, Kate came up and touched Max’s arm. “Just let us know if you need anything. We’re right outside.”

Max smiled, still fighting back tears. “Thanks, Kate. I won’t be long, I swear.”

Without another word, Max hobbled over to the hallway and straight into the bathroom. Slamming the door shut behind her, she felt giddy when she stripped off her clothes and turned on the shower. Ignoring the lukewarm temperature, Max jumped inside and let the water spray across her bare skin and soak through her hair. She pressed her face into her hands and leaned back until she was up against the cold yellow wall tiles.

She stayed there for a long time. Long enough that she couldn’t tell which were the tears and which were normal water droplets.

Then, because she felt like she needed it, Max lathered herself up with enough shampoo and body wash to wipe away every last piece of grit and dirt from her pores. She didn’t know if dirt could travel across dimensions like she did, but why take the chance? Max could scrub and scrub until her skin fell off and a new one took its place. She’d rather be  that new pink person than the tired, defeated woman she felt like.

After turning off the water, Max wrapped herself up in a towel and sat on the floor in front of the bathroom sink. She stared down at her hands, waiting for another trick. Because that was the problem, wasn’t it? Every time she felt safe, there was another trick. A choice that would turn everything from good to bad, and from bad to worse.

She waited.

Nothing happened.

Max stared down at her right hand. She willed it to move. To tremble, even a little.

Nothing happened.

Max breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank God...”

As soon as she’d spoken, Max heard the knock at the door. She turned and waited until Kate called out, “Um, Max? Are you still good in there?”

“I think so,” Max called back. She removed her towel and then went to the pile of clothes she’d left in the other corner, over by the wastebasket.

Getting dressed, Max took her time to examine herself in the mirror. She still saw red eyes with bags underneath, but now she was smiling, too. If she tilted her face one way, she saw an absolute mess. Looking from another angle, though, Max saw a survivor. Someone who’d given Hell and stayed on her feet.

She decided that she could handle this new face just fine.

* * *

Stepping out of the bathroom, Max ran her fingers through her freshly washed hair. She savored the silky texture and the tingling across her skin. Even taking a few steps in her own hallway, after that nightmare in the hospital bed, was an unimaginable pleasure. Max wore the biggest grin on her face as she entered the living room.

Chloe and Kate were already on the couch, watching TV, and Max decided to play her earlier panic attack off. It'd be nice to joke around again, to sit and hang with her girlfriends.

“Sorry about that,” she called out, gesturing to her forehead. “I guess I had, like, a migraine or something. Real weird stuff, you know...?”

Her voice trailed off when Chloe turned to face her. The taller girl’s face scrunched up.

“Dude...” Chloe stared her down. “What did you do?”

Max came to a sudden halt. “Huh?”

“Max, you totally had another ghost sighting or something, right?”

“Chloe, I...” Max swallowed. She decided that, perhaps, playing things off as a joke would not be the right course to take. “Yeah. I-I did...”

Chloe dropped her head into her hands. “Jesus Christ...”

Kate leaned over and put her hand on her girlfriend’s shoulder. “Chloe...”

Watching the pair, Max’s good vibes disappeared. She clutched her hand over her stomach, fighting back a wave of nausea that hadn’t been there since the last photo-jumping session. She’d stopped the cycle, though. She was sure of it. Unless Max had missed something? Maybe all along she’d missed something from earlier that morning, from even before their photo shoot.

“What’s wrong?” Max asked. “What’s going on?” She pointed to the bathroom. “Guys, I was just in the shower. I don’t know what else to tell you, but—”

“Max.” Kate’s dull voice cut her off. “Just... look.”

Turning to the side, Max glanced at the TV for the first time.

She wished she hadn’t done that. She could never forget the sight of storm clouds rolling in over the Oregonian coastline. Max would never dare forget seeing waves crash high and hard against the rocky shores, flooding nearby roads and pastures. All these images assaulted her as hard as they had a year before outside Sacramento, but there was no Rachel to fit the pieces together this time.

Instead, Max had to stand there. She got to stand and let some news anchor’s voiceover fill in the gruesome details.

“ _...New reports emerging at the top of the hour,_ ” said the broadcaster. “ _Officials say that the weather pattern we’re seeing here matches a Category Three storm, with the potential to become a Category Four once it hits the coastline. Residents of the following communities are asked to begin evacuating to the nearest shelter or to remain where they are and take precautions to..._ ”

Several towns scrolled by on a list, as the news channel cut away from footage of the storm to an infographic. When Max saw the name  _ Bay City _ flash by, she put a hand over her mouth. Whatever scream she’d tried to stifle never came.

The graphic disappeared, and the storm footage returned. Max watched men in EMT uniforms carry people out on stretchers, and when she saw this, her hand began to shake. She grabbed at it, and she couldn’t stop herself. Max twisted in place, falling to her knees before she placed her hands into the rough apartment carpet. Within a second, Chloe was on top of her, her arms tight around Max’s shoulders.

“Max!” Chloe shouted in her face. She began to shake her friend hard. “Hey, Caulfield! Don’t pass out on us now! You...” Her face dropped. “Dude, you gotta tell us if this is real. If this has anything to do at all with your space case from last year, or—”

“It’s real...” The words came out as a croak from deep in Max’s throat.

Chloe and Kate exchanged a nervous look, but said nothing.

Max made herself speak through the pain in her chest. “It’s real. I just never thought...” Then the tears started falling again. “I never thought it’d happen here.”

Kate shook her head, still hesitant. “Max, what’s going on?”

“It’s the storm.” Max closed her eyes and tried to breathe. “The storm from messing around with time. The one Rachel said I prevented. It... it’s here now.”

“And did you?” By now, Chloe was breathing hard. Her hands tightened around Max, her fingers digging into her skin. “Max, did you mess around with time? Because, I gotta say, dying in a storm is a pretty shitty way to go right now.”

“I’m sorry!” Hearing the anger in Chloe’s face, Max knew she deserved this. She couldn’t stop the tears, and she collapsed into her best friend’s arms. Max had to gasp for air in between words. Like she’d ever have enough time or words to apologize for her sins. “I’m sorry, Chloe. I never meant... I swear I never...”

If Chloe was still mad, she didn’t show it. Her arms remained tight around Max, still holding her close. Max couldn’t bear to look up. It was a blessing enough to be here.

Meanwhile, she listened for a pair of soft footsteps moving away from the couch.

“Kate?” Chloe raised her voice. “Where are you going?”

Max lifted her head and opened her eyes in time to see Kate standing over the two of them, just one step outside the hallway. Her eyes were small and red, just like Max’s, but  she didn’t seem quite so defeated. Her hands kept opening and closing at her sides, like she was working through her own stress.

“I’m gonna go pack,” said Kate.

Chloe groaned. “Come on...”

“Chloe, we...” Kate spread her hands toward Max. “We can’t stay here and argue over whose fault this is. The authorities said we need to leave. I think we should listen!”

In her head, Max could hear storm clouds rumbling. She felt lightning dance across her skin. Somewhere in the background, she could even hear Keisha saying,  _ Just please be careful, _ right before Max jumped back. Right before she made all those dumb choices. Max didn’t know if they’d ever see her again, but if they did, she’d apologize to her, too. Keisha wouldn’t know why, but Max would apologize anyway. She owed her that much.

“She’s right.” It hurt to speak, but Max tried anyway. She sniffled and tried to stand up, as Chloe let go of her. “We gotta go, Chloe.”

Staring at the floor, Chloe didn’t respond. Max couldn’t read her face at all.

“Come on!” she insisted. “We just... we need to grab what we can, throw it into the truck, and just... just go! You can blame me all you want, but not right now!”

When Chloe looked up, her face recoiled like it’d just been slapped. “Max...”

Max shook her head. She offered her hand. “Please? Please, can we... can we just go?”

Chloe didn’t answer, except to reach out and take Max’s hand. She followed her into the bedroom, where Kate was already emptying the closet and the dressers. Max ducked under the bed for the trio of giant rolling suitcases, and Chloe managed to snap into action by grabbing every last photo from the Memorial Wall. It was such a small, stupid gesture, but Max loved her for doing it anyway.

When she glanced out the window, she couldn’t see any glimpse of the clear skies she’d seen that morning. Instead, gray clouds dominated the skyline for miles and miles. Max saw a flash, and then a second later, she heard the distant rumble of thunder.

For once, she couldn’t waste the time that she had.

* * *

Rain splattered hard against the windshield of Chloe’s ancient trunk. The streets were flooding fast, and on one sharp turn, the truck began to hydroplane. Max squealed, but Kate grabbed her hand. Trying to settle down, Max glanced at her and whispered a quick “Thanks.”

When she double-checked the rearview mirror, she saw that the blue tarp they’d bought and thrown over the bed was still holding fast. Stacked underneath the tarp were three giant suitcases, two sleeping bags, a first aid kit, and maybe six grocery bags full of canned goods, water bottles, and Lord knew whatever else the girls could fit inside them at the last minute. It seemed strange to Max that anyone could pack up their entire life into a few cases in an hour or less. But then, after jumping through time, she was in no position to judge what was strange anymore.

“Hang on, kids!” Chloe called out. Her open palm smacked itself against the roof of her truck on the next right turn. “We’re about to hit the highway!”

As the truck ascended the onramp and merged into traffic, Max stared out at the endless lines of cars and trucks filling the eastbound side of the highway. On the westbound side, amber lights flashed as FEMA vans and fire trucks went racing down the empty lanes. She saw SUVs packed with families and tons of suitcases, followed by eighteen-wheelers honking their horns, followed by classy sedans with too many people crammed into the backseat. Nothing but headlamps and red glaring taillights as far as the eye could see, all packed like sardines under a wrathful gray sky.

Max leaned in so close that her breath fogged up the window. “Wowser...”

A hand wrapped around her arm. Max turned to see Kate looking at her, and she smiled back.

Kate frowned. “Whatever happens next, will you promise me something?”

Max hesitated. “Okay?”

“Promise me you won’t do anything without telling us first?”

Max swallowed. After a moment, she looked back toward the unforgiving lines of traffic.

“How’d you know?” she asked.

Chloe sighed, both hands still on the wheel. “Pretty obvious, no? You’ve spazzed out before, but never as hardcore as this.” Max listened for the edge in her voice and watched her hands tighten on the wheel. “Figured you were either having a nervous breakdown, something supernatural, or both.”

“I tried...” Max cleared her throat. “Chloe, I tried to—”

“Not right now, Caulfield.” Chloe’s eyes remained locked on the traffic. A car in front pulled ahead by a few inches, and Chloe’s foot eased off the brakes to follow. “I... need to focus here. Tell me when we’ve pulled over, okay?”

“Okay.” Max slumped back into her seat. Her head buzzed, and her chest hurt like she was on the verge of a heart attack. But she couldn’t jump away like before. After today, she couldn’t bear to look at another photograph.

Instead, she wiped her nose and cleared her throat again. “I love you both, by the way.”

Kate squeezed her hand. “We love you, too, Max. Just hold on.”

* * *

Five miles outside of Portland, they finally got off the highway. They’d visited this spot before during the road trip. It was the same truck stop where they’d first met Keisha. Max sat in a diner booth beside Kate, with Chloe across from them, while waitresses bustled in and out with trays of hot food and coffee balanced on both arms. Max didn’t have go looking around much to see more familiar sights. The diner was packed with refugees from the storm, including handfuls of kids her age wearing Bay City College sweaters.

Max resisted the urge to run over and throw herself on their mercy. She doubted she’d make much sense if she did.

Her guilt made it difficult to even look at food, but Kate wouldn’t hear of Max starving herself. She insisted that Max split a club turkey sandwich with her, and Kate refused to let Max go without eating a single bite. In a curious way, Kate was using Max’s own guilt against her. Every time Max refused to eat, Kate would do the same, until Max felt so bad that she wolfed down a bite.

Meanwhile, one of the waitresses turned up the volume on a TV mounted on the ceiling. Max tried not to wince at the newscaster’s voice spoke over helicopter footage of the storm’s early impact on Bay City. Shots of scattered roof tiles and trees snapped in half filled the screen, underscored by the reporter’s dismal tone. “ _...Tom, we’re seeing extensive damage to both Main Street and Settler’s Square. The college is also reporting a roof collapse in North Hall. However, campus officials say that all students and faculty were evacuated ahead of the storm, and no casualties were reported. Back to you... _ ”

“Jesus...” Max turned to Kate, eyes widening. “Er, sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Kate patted her hand. “You’ve been through a lot, too.”

The image of two body bags lying on the rocky coast of Arcadia Bay popped into Max’s head. She suppressed a shiver.

“Yeah,” she said. “Something like that.”

“So, you feel like talking now?” Chloe growled. She lowered her ceramic mug to the table, wiping her lips with a napkin. Her cold blue eyes sharpened onto Max’s face. “’Cause I’m sure as shit ready to listen.”

Max wilted under Kate’s gentle grip. “Right.” Turning to the floor, Max reached into her messenger bag. Pulling out a heavy stack of Polaroids, Max laid them out on the table, pushing aside the plate of her half-finished sandwich. “I need to sort these first. Hard to remember... where it all started...”

Like a dealer at a blackjack table, Max laid out the biggest offenders first.  _ Snap, snap, snap. _ Each Polaroid hit the table with a deafening impact. First, the pretentious selfie from behind. Then, the butterfly photo, taken inside the girls’ room at Blackwell. Finally, the black-and-white photo that Max, eons ago, had planned to deliver to the Chase Space. All lined up and arranged like playing cards. Maybe Chloe caught that reference, too. Her expression flickered with each new photo, shifting from guarded to a little curious. Her eyes never once left Max’s face.

Max cleared her throat. “Last year, you remember what Rachel told us about other timelines? Other Maxes, Kates, and Chloes?”

Chloe nodded. “Sure I do.”

“I kept getting these dreams. Watching the storm wipe out Arcadia Bay. Getting caught by Jefferson.” Max fought against another shiver. His smooth voice didn’t enter her head so easy this time. “I... I couldn’t tell what was real anymore. And when I took this photo the first time...” She pointed to the black-and-white image. “I found I could jump back through time. A-and I did. Five minutes into the past.” Max sniffled. “It... got easier after that.”

Watching her girlfriends, Max couldn’t help but feel miserable. Their sad, doe-eyed expressions were brutal enough. Max could only guess at what they were thinking. She glanced around the diner, half-paranoid someone else might be listening in.

They weren’t, of course. Like so many things, the doom existed only in her head.

“You said you tried to do something.” Chloe frowned. “Max, what did you do?”

Max hesitated before replying. “I went back to that day at the carnival.” Reaching into the stack on the table, she pulled out and showed Kate the crumpled old picture of her and Chloe in their tweens, dressed up in their pirate outfits. God, how long had the carnival been? Ten years ago? Twenty, it felt like. “I... I guess I thought, if I could make myself never leave Arcadia Bay, then we might... then you’d never...”

“Jesus, Max...” Chloe cast a defeated look across the table. “You ripped up time and space... for me?” She gestured out the window, out at the constant rainfall. “You did all  _ this _ over one photo?”

Max nodded. She’d expected this, of course. A tongue-lashing was only the start. Then would come the accusations, the silence, and the separation. All because she’d meddled in time. In their relationship, no less.

But then, Chloe said, “And you’re beating yourself up over this... why, exactly?”

Max blinked. “Are you kidding me? Chloe, I—”

“Could not have possibly known shit was gonna fly like this.” Chloe tapped her finger against the selfie of Max in her dorm room. “Max, if you’d told me from the start you could rewind time, my dumb ass would’ve been the first one to egg you on.”

“But I—”

“No buts.” Chloe glared back. “You didn’t know. You got that? And now that you  _ do _ know, you’re not gonna go back and fix it, are ya?”

Max didn’t flinch. “No. Not anymore.”

“That’s good,” Kate replied, grabbing her hand. “We like you just as you are, Max.”

A smile came to Max, and then she couldn’t stop. She hugged Kate and then looked Chloe in the eye. Chloe remained a little guarded, but Max didn’t miss the twinkle in her eye, that little hint that maybe the whole world wasn’t doomed because of her.

Okay, so that was settled. But that didn’t close the book on this nightmare. Max stared down at the photos cluttering her side of the booth. The dorm room selfie. The butterfly photo. The stunning shot of Kate and Chloe. One by one, Max went grabbed a picture, stared at it for a second, and then ripped it in half. Chloe stared as Max ripped the selfie apart. She didn’t flinch, not even when Max ripped up the butterfly photo. That one didn’t hurt at all. Too much pain to go back there anyway.

But as Max picked up the black-and-white photo, a soft hand wrapped around her wrist. She looked over and met Kate’s wide-eyed look.

“No, I...” Whatever else Kate had been apart to say trailed off into a stammer. She blushed, and then added, “I like that one too much. And I think you proved your point.”

Across the booth, Chloe leaned back and grinned. “Me, too.” Her finger reached out and tapped the photo twice. “Superpowers or not, you’re still a cute little shutterbug nerd.”

At first, Max didn’t know how to respond. Then she started to sniffle, and when she went to wipe her nose, she felt tears down her cheeks. Despite a quick duck of her head, Max couldn’t escape Kate’s loving attention. The other girl put her arms around Max and drew her close, shushing while she smiled and cried out her gratitude. Across the table, Chloe smiled back, her finger gently tracing curves over the photograph.

Outside, it continued to rain. The wind splattered fresh drops against the diner window in short bursts that sounded like rapid-fire heartbeats. Max closed her eyes and let the moment play out as it happened.


	9. Recollection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two weeks later, everyone is recovering from the fallout. Max makes a decision to move forward with her work.

_Two Weeks Later_

“Chloe! Breakfast!” Joyce Price’s voice cut through the fog in Max’s head. She yawned into her hand. Just in time, she sat up to hear the next salvo through the heavy white door of the bedroom. “Come on downstairs, y’all! These omelettes aren’t gonna eat themselves, you know!”

Now there was an image, but it was probably only funny in Max’s sleep-addled brain. With a chuckle, she turned to regard the two other girls lying in bed beside her. Chloe was snoring—as well as pantsless—and had both arms curled protectively around the smaller Kate Marsh. As for poor Kate, she was wide awake, smiling politely, and giving Max a silent plea for help. With each gentle nudge, all Kate got in return was Chloe tightening her grip around her like some bony python.

Max nudged Chloe. “Hey.”

“Mmph.” Chloe didn’t move. Not so much as an eye twitch.

“Hey. C’mon. Let poor Kate get up already. It’s breakfast time.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

Looking around the room, Max tried to imagine what would be the most convenient tool for prying her two girlfriends loose. Unfortunately, even in its punk rock, ready-to-thrash decor, Chloe’s old room was woefully ill-equipped. Max didn’t think she ought to try and use Chloe’s old bong as a makeshift lever; she could only imagine the holy hell her best friend would raise if she so much as chipped the pipe. Apart from that, the room was strewn with different sets of clothes, from all three girls, along with the odds and ends they’d set down or promised to put away but never did. Overflowing grocery bags full of keepsakes and photographs that no one had gotten around to sorting, let alone deciding what to keep or toss.

It’d been this way for two weeks. Fourteen whole days since they’d abandoned Bay City. Max doubted that they’d make much progress. With school vouchers offered by the State of Oregon, they could attend one of the schools in Portland on the cheap. With their apartment trashed by the storm, it wasn’t like they had much of a choice.

Max had to come to appreciate not having a choice. It gave her less time to fret.

Meanwhile, she could still do things like hover over Chloe’s ear and whisper, “Hey, Sleeping Beauty. If you don’t move, I’ll eat your plate, too.”

Chloe snickered without opening her eyes. “Pirate queen...” she muttered, and then she let go of Kate, only to grab the nearest pillow and shove her head under it. “Mm... get that booty...”

Sitting up, Kate looked down at her bedmate. “Chloe? Do you need some water?”

“Why? For my splitting headache?” When the pillow lifted, one bleary eye glared out. “Could it have something to do with my... urgh... whatchamacallit, dehydrated state?”

Kate smiled back. “Probably, yeah.”

In response, Chloe sank back beneath the pillows. The bed sheets curled around her body like a tornado, and she more or less disappeared from view. Max sighed and shook her head. With a feeble wave of her hand, she motioned for Kate to get up. They stayed quiet, tiptoeing around the thrashed-up room to collect fresh clothes. Then they tiptoed down the hall to the bathroom, where their makeup kits sat inside the medicine cabinet, right behind Chloe’s unused bottle of blue hair dye.

Lately, Kate had stopped putting her hair up in a bun. She let it fall in a glorious mane, and Max helped her out with a few strokes of her hairbrush. After a pause to admire her, Max turned back to the mirror and began to dab a bit of foundation across her cheeks.

“Max?”

“Hmm?” It was hard to answer. Max had her eyeshadow pen clenched between her teeth. She pulled it out right away.

Kate adjusted the folds of her blouse. “Why the makeup? It’s only breakfast.”

“Can’t a girl look nice?”

“Well, sure, but...” Kate turned and gave Max a quick lookover. Then her lips curved into a sweet little smile. “You’ve been practicing, haven’t you?”

“Practicing? Me?” Max began to apply her eyeshadow. Just enough to define, not to overwhelm in the way someone like Dana Ward might use it. “For what?”

“For the publicity campaign. All those reporters want to interview the big new artist.”

When she noticed her reflection, Max had to admit this was a change for her. The foundation erased half her freckles, and the eyeshadow made her seem a bit older. But then, jumping through time had done that to her no problem. Between the kid who’d moved back to Arcadia Bay in 2013 and the girl she saw in the mirror, Max would’ve guessed there was maybe five or ten years between them.

“It’s just an art show, geez,” she answered.

“It’s huge, Max! Your very own art show!” When Kate leaned in, she pressed her hands into Max’s shoulder. “I couldn’t be prouder.”

Max sagged with relief, and not just from the weight of her loving girlfriend. “You know, for a moment there? I was sure you were gonna say I’m trying to look nice for Victoria.”

“Nothing wrong with that either.” Kate gave her shoulder a quick squeeze. “Just so long as she knows who you’re with now.”

Max turned and regarded her with a grin. “Kate Marsh, are you... jealous?”

With a shake of her head, Kate replied, “No, no. I’m not jealous. I’m...” After a pause, she let out a tiny laugh. “Let’s say I’m being a faithful partner.”

“You’re always that.” Leaning over, Max gave her a fast kiss on the cheek. She tried very hard not to smudge her sweetheart’s makeup in the process. “Come on, let’s not keep Joyce waiting.”

* * *

When the girls arrived downstairs, they found Joyce already hard at work. Dressed in her uniform, she moved a little slower than Max remembered, but her hair was still a brilliant shade of gold, and her tiny smile never wavered. Not even when she set the table for breakfast and had to contend with a grumbling, half-awake Chloe. Max had to hold her hand over her mouth to stop her giggle. The sight of Chloe, wearing the Ray-Bans she’d bought in LA last year and a Schrodinger’s Cat t-shirt, was too much to take in all at once. And yet, Chloe had the same bad morning vibe for as long as Max had known her.

Nice to see some things never changed, altered timelines notwithstanding.

“Now, I don’t mind waiting on you like this,” Joyce was saying, “but you could make things a little easier, you know.” She handed her daughter a glass of water from the kitchen, all but forcing it into her hand. “At least _try_ to put something in your stomach.”

Chloe’s expression didn’t change. “Yes, Mother.”

Tilting her head back, she proceeded to chug down the entire glass in one go. Joyce planted her hands on her hips, but before she could offer more parental wisdom, Chloe lifted her index finger to interrupt.

Max shook her head. Same old Chloe. She made sure to give Joyce an extra-long hug.

“Since she won’t say it, thank you, Joyce.” Max took her seat next to Kate and went to pick up her fork. Each plate was loaded with a healthy pile of eggs, bacon, and toast. And, just for Kate, an extra piece of grapefruit. “This looks great.”

Joyce’s eyes lit up as she eased into her chair next to Chloe. Her voice went up an octave as well. “Hmm. Nice to be appreciated, Max. You want extra bacon with that?”

Max waited until Chloe grumbled and picked up her fork before answering. “No, this is plenty. Thanks.”

As the four of them proceeded to eat, Max couldn’t help but watch Chloe. She did eat, but her mood was sour and she went slower than everyone else. Then again, as Max stuffed herself with scrumptious bacon and eggs, she couldn’t help but think that her poor girlfriend had brought all this on herself.

 _And besides,_ Max added to herself, _it’s not like I didn’t have a taste of it, too._

* * *

“Dude! We are gonna rock Seattle so hard!” Chloe finished her dance routine and turned to Max with a cheeky grin. She offered the bottle of red wine, and when Max declined, Chloe shrugged and took another swig. Max could only roll her eyes at the wild child. But she had admit, it was a little fun to hang like this in the bachelor pad again.

“Okay,” Chloe continued, “so first, we gotta conquer the Space Needle! And before you talk me out of it, yes, I _will_ leave my mark there!” Right on cue, she reached into her pocket and unleashed her black Sharpie pen. Max could only imagine how many walls across town that little pen had defaced since she’d been away. “Next, we gotta hit up your folks’ house! Do you know how rude it is to not invite me over more often? Like, _twice_ I’ve been there, Max! Your bestie and your gal pal have only been up to Casa de Caulfield twice!”

“Because you wanted to hit Portland, like, ten thousand times already!” Max rubbed at her forehead, then shot a glance at Kate, who sat in the chair by the desk. “Right?”

Kate nodded. “Right!” Then, after a pause: “Not that I’m complaining either way. It’s been fun.”

“See?” Chloe waved her arms. “Kate knows what’s up, Max. She’s a _fun_ seeker, not a killjoy.”

Max knew she wasn’t going to win this little tit-for-tat. Having time travel powers would have helped that, but she’d sworn them off forever. No sense messing up this reality any more than she already had. “Chloe, I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to figure this out.” She couldn’t stop herself from rubbing at the back of her neck. An old, oddly comforting gesture. “I... I just have a lot on my mind right now.”

Chloe said nothing. Her face had turned completely solemn.

Then she grinned and waved the half-empty wine bottle at Max.

“No,” said Max.

“Come onnn...”

“Absolutely not.”

“Max, this isn’t beer or brandy. This is _wine._ Really nice red wine, too!” Chloe stopped to squint up at the label on the bottle. “Can’t... quite read what year it is, but, man, does it taste good!”

“Probably because you had a lot already,” Kate remarked.

When Chloe spun around and glared at the smaller girl, Kate only smiled back. She raised the red plastic cup sitting by her on the desk, in which she’d poured herself a tiny bit of wine at Chloe’s earlier insistence. Half an hour ago, if Max recalled. Kate could nurse a drink like no one else. Chloe seemed to remember that, too. She shrugged and had another swig of wine straight from the bottle, ignoring Kate’s disapproving frown.

When she turned back to Max, Chloe’s face had turned red, and her smile came fast and easy. “My _point,_ Max, is that you gotta loosen up a little.” She frowned a little. “I... I know you’re still adjusting. Two weeks later, and there’s still some bullshit to manage. Applications. New school vouchers.” She paused. “Finding a new place to... call home.”

Just like in her visions of the storm that wiped out Arcadia Bay, the storm that hit Bay City had leveled their humble apartment complex. Max fought the urge to rub at her neck and berate herself again.

She managed to cough and say, “Thank God for the emergency aid.”

Chloe snickered. “Yeah, thanks a bunch, Uncle Sam. Anyhoo, you wanna stay holed up here in the Bay? The way you were planning to during your little, uh, time travel trip?” She pointed the wine bottle accusingly at Max. “Well, that’s _your_ call, Caulfield. But me and Kate want to go north. We want to see the big city and build something new. Heck, so does your little friend Queen Vicky.”

“She’s not—”

“A huge pain in my ass?”

“A friend.” Max stopped to consider that. “More of a colleague.”

This time, it was Kate who laughed. “I think your Skype chats say otherwise.”

With her face flushing red, Max dropped her gaze to the floor. “Well, _my_ point is I’m still adjusting, okay?” Fresh guilt stung at the back of the throat. _Geez, Max. Angry much?_ She took a breath before she added, in a softer voice, “I’m... I’m still working it out.”

Chloe nodded. “And you sent in your photo of me and Kate. Which, by the way, they love.” She shrugged and let the bottle dangle loosely in her grip, dangerously close to dropping to the floor. “So what’s the problem, Cap’n? You afraid your First Mate is gonna make a scene? Start a mutiny?”

Max didn’t have an answer for that. She kept staring down at her hands. At her right hand, and how much it _didn’t_ shake. She kept thinking about gyms packed with survivors and body bags topped with necklaces, and how, in this reality, none of that actually mattered. Everyone they needed to live had lived in this timeline. Max had caused and erased her own problem, with one or two lingering side effects.

When she got right down to it, what _did_ she have to worry about?

Squaring back her shoulders, Max lifted her head. “Gimme that.”

Chloe squinted. “Huh?”

“The bottle, genius.” Max held out her hand. “Captain’s orders.”

Chloe’s grin lit up the bedroom. “Atta girl!”

She handed the bottle to Max, who regarded the label for a moment. Then she cautiously lifted the bottle to her lips and took what she hoped was a nice long sip.

Which lasted for all of two seconds. The thick red wine made her cough and splutter, and then Chloe was leaning over her, patting her back and laughing. “Easy, easy! Not all at once, hippie!”

Max coughed and cleared her throat. “Why... why do I do these things?”

“Because you love me?”

“Because I...” Max coughed again. “Ugh... let you talk me into them!”

Chloe flashed her an impish smile. “Right. Because you love me.”

“And I’m sorry if I’ve been a little withdrawn. I... I swear it’s not your fault.” Once she could breathe a little easier, Max looked over at Kate and added, “Either of yours. I just needed some...”

She almost said _time._ Which was the last thing she needed more of right then. So Max shook her head and said, “Some space! Some space to think things over, while we’re putting our lives back together.”

Kate folded her hands in her lap and leaned forward. “Max, we don’t blame you for what happened.”

“I know you don’t.” Max paused. Her head flashed back to the broken lighthouse. “I blame myself.”

When Chloe knelt down, Max half-expected a string of curses from the half-drunk girl. But instead, Chloe took the bottle out of Max’s hands. She leaned forward and wrapped an arm around Max’s waist, holding her close. Such a sweet and tender moment that Max was almost on the verge of tears.

“Permission to speak freely, Captain?” asked Chloe.

Max winced. Then she nodded.

“Then don’t shoulder the blame all to yourself. We’re in this mess together, and I, for one, couldn’t be happier.” Before Max could interrupt, Chloe leaned in closer and kissed her on the cheek. “So long as we’re together, we can handle all the shit the world throws our way. You know why?”

Max shrugged. “I dunno.”

Chloe leaned in a little more, until she was close enough to whisper right into Max’s ear. But instead of that, she drew in a quick breath and yelled, “Because you _looooove_ me!”

Max clutched at her head before it could explode. “Ooh, not right now I don’t...”

With a giggle, Kate got up and went to join her on the bed. “Here, Max.”

Kate didn’t let the drunk Chloe interfere as she guided Max onto her back, with her head resting on the pillow near the top of the bed. After a moment, Kate snuggled up beside Max. She reached over to trace her fingers in between her girlfriend’s shoulder blades, working the knot of tension there. Max bit on her bottom lip, but Kate just laughed.

“Just relax,” she whispered.

“Love you, too...” Max managed to say through the waves of euphoria rolling over her.

Meanwhile, Chloe watched the two of them with a slight chuckle on her lips. She took one last swig from the bottle, which basically left it empty. Then she planted the bottle on the floor, letting it roll away as Chloe hopped into bed on Max’s other side. She snuggled up and breathed into Max’s ear, her breath warm and reeking of red wine.

“Just remember...” Chloe slurred. “M’gonna get you to Seattle...” She hiccuped, and then she giggled at the sound of it. “Gonna rock yer world, su... sup...” Another giggle escaped her mouth. “Superstar...”

 _Superstar._ Max grinned. It didn’t sound so bad when Chloe called her that.

That grin was still on her face as she shifted deeper into bed, and she let the warmth of the two girls lull her into a gentle, dreamless sleep.

* * *

Listening to Joyce and Kate clean dishes in the kitchen, Max decided that she could sit around this morning for a change. Instead of letting guilt propel her to help out, she kept close to Chloe. Fielding a miserable tall girlfriend was nothing new for Max in any case. She took comfort—and some delight—in the Ray-Bans on Chloe’s face, and on the cute depiction of Schrodinger’s Cat on her t-shirt. It wasn’t so much a cat as a cardboard box with a cat’s paw sticking out the top, clinging to a clothesline under the caption _Hang In There, Kitty, Dead or Alive!_

Meanwhile, Chloe reached up and slowly removed her sunglasses. Blinking furiously, she stared down at the table until her eyes adjusted. When she turned to Max, those same bloodshot eyes held only a slight twinkle of amusement.

“Max, promise me?” Chloe said through a groan. “Mmph. No... no more wine after ten o’clock, okay?”

“I promise. Swear to Dog.”

“And, hey, no more late-night cry fests either.”

Max's hands curled into fists on her lap. “I... don’t know if I can keep that one.”

“Heh.” Lifting her third glass of water, Chloe offered a toast before taking a long sip. “I figured, but it was worth a shot.”

“Chloe?”

Finishing her drink, Chloe set the glass back on the table. She hurriedly wiped her lips before glancing over at Max.

 _No pressure,_ Max said inside her head. Out loud, she said, “Do... do you think I can still do this?” She rubbed at her arm, then told herself to stop it. “Face all those people?”

Chloe sighed. “Well, that depends. You gonna jump back through time again?”

“No.” Max looked down at her still-clenched fists. “Never again.”

“Well, you gonna cause a scene? Start a deadly stampede of fangirls?”

“Be serious.”

“Hey, I _am_ serious.” Chloe pressed a hand to her breast and shot Max an offended look. “You know what a gallery full of screaming socialites and super-gay hipster chicks looks like?” She giggled. “It’s a goddamn fire hazard waiting to happen, Max. And you just _know_ Vicky’s gonna be leading the charge, too.”

Even as she sighed, Max couldn’t help but smile. The mental image was too good. “You are ridiculous, you know that?”

“Only because—”

“Because I love you, yes.” Max paused before leaning into Chloe’s shoulder, scooting her chair over to do so. “And thanks.”

“For what?”

“For believing in me, no matter what timeline we’re in.”

At first, Chloe didn’t say anything. She looked genuinely surprised, her eyes wide and her lips parted. But then her face broke into a smile, and Chloe lifted her hand to ruffle Max’s hair. The sensation almost made Max want to tap her foot like a cheerful dog, and that second bizarre mental image made her grin again.

“You’re a dork, Max Caulfield,” Chloe answered, “and I will repeat that for the rest of my days, even until my dying breath. But goddammit, you’re _our_ dork.”


	10. Chase the Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max's big night in Seattle arrives. She puts on a brave face and enters the limelight at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who kept up with this story. It's not going to be my last foray into LiS (thank you, Before the Storm Ep. 1), but it might be my last Max-centered fic for a while, and this ought to wrap up this particular fanfic series. Thanks again for your encouragement and your comments.

In the storefront window, a ghost stared back at Max. She had Max’s eyes and hair, but the resemblance ended there. The original Max would’ve had worn so much foundation, and she wouldn’t have gone with even a hint of eyeshadow. For sure, the geeky Max Caulfield wouldn’t be caught dead—in this timeline—without her classic gray hoodie and blue jeans, and this ghost’s taste for khakis and a suede jacket. Even the little doe’s head necklace seemed too fanciful. But then, Max supposed with a grin, there was no appeasing some ghosts.

The ghost seemed to agree. It was grinning back.

When she turned away from the storefront window, Max drew a deep breath. She hugged herself and stared down the small gathering of people outside the nearby art gallery. It was a cold Seattle evening, something she hadn’t experienced in a long time. Max thought about her parents, huddled up somewhere at home under a blanket with hot cocoa in hand, and how much she’d rather be there.

But that wish would lead her nowhere. Max had made a promise. And come hell or high water, or sudden death tornadoes from broken timelines, she was going to keep it.

Drawing another breath, Max walked ahead. She smiled up at the minimalist sign hanging over the front door of the gallery. Instead of walking right in, Max proceeded to the end of the line and joined the other guests. Zipping up her jacket, Max tried not to shiver. She needed to acclimate to the weather here, especially if there were going to be more nights like this one.

She still couldn’t believe this was real.

That unreal feeling didn’t leave when Max spotted the young woman taking names at the front door. Taylor Christensen hadn’t changed much in the two years since Max had last seen her. She still wore her hair long and frazzled, but she also dressed up nicely. The black dress she wore under a stylish white-and-pink coat suited her well. It was also good to see the girl not being another Vortex Club flunky. When the line grew shorter and Max got closer, she could see and hear the confidence in Taylor’s voice.

“...No, sorry, but she won’t be here for another ten minutes or so,” she was saying to a pair of gentlemen in tweed coats at the front of the line. As Taylor answered them, she put on a solid customer service smile and swiped right across her phone screen. “But the gallery appreciates your interest. Enjoy yourselves!”

The two men entered, and Max had to stop from making an obvious Thunderdome joke. Still, she hid her smile behind her hand and continued to wait her turn.

When Max got to the front of the line, Taylor did a double-take. Her face broke into an incorrigible grin, and she threw her arms around Max, all without dropping her expensive iPhone onto the pavement.

“Omigosh, when’d _you_ get here?” Taylor held Max back at arm’s length. “And I thought Victoria made it clear. You don’t have to wait in line. You’re the main attraction!”

Max grinned. “But I don’t mind waiting. And what better way to surprise you?”

“Well, consider me surprised, then.” Taylor held open the door and waved Max in. “After you, Miss Caulfield.”

“You look great, by the way,” said Max. Then, after a slight pause to pray that she got the fashion lingo right, she added, “Er, love the LBD you’re wearing.”

Taylor burst out laughing, but she was still all smiles. She patted Max on the arm. “Thanks for noticing! Go on, now! Don’t keep her waiting!”

With an awkward smile, Max entered the Chase Space. It looked about the same as the last time she’d been here, with tons of white plastered walls and a veritable array of sculptures and paintings laid out like some mad genius’s obstacle course. There were men and women, some in their twenties and more than a few in their fifties, all mingling and sipping from glasses of wine. Two waiters in red blazers were slipping around the main floor, offering trays full of chocolates and fruit. Max felt more out of place the longer she stared at the whole soiree.

But then she caught sight of Victoria Chase, regal and poised near the back of the gallery. Victoria was chatting with someone when she happened to look over and spot Max in the crowd.

For a moment, neither woman said anything. They merely stared each other down. They squinted, and Max could imagine all the horrible things they’d unleash on each other.

Probably along the lines of _Waif hipster bullshit_ and _Go fuck your selfie, Chase._

Then Victoria apologized to whoever she was chatting with, and Max proceeded to walk toward her. Of course, by the time they were face-to-face, Victoria’s death glare had turned into a smirk, Max was breaking out into a giggle, and then the two of them were embracing like old friends.

“Maxine Caulfield, you are ridiculous as ever.” Letting go, Victoria looked her over. “Now, what’s become of your girlfriends?”

“On their way. I told them to be fashionably late.”

“Well, if you can call Chloe Price _fashionable,_ then I suppose—”

“Be nice.”

“I’m _always_ nice, Max.” Keeping one hand on Max’s shoulder, Victoria turned and gestured to a new installation on the western wall of the gallery. “And speaking of which, you did a nice job yourself.”

When Max looked up, staring beyond the sea of eager art lovers, she saw the blown-up portrait on the wall. Her big success.

 _Love is Strange No. 1,_ featuring Chloe and Kate holding onto each other, hung on the wall in a cherished spot, alongside other up-and-coming photographers. Max noticed that the other artists had used black-and-white film like she did, but they hadn’t added the color accents that Max had put in later with Chloe’s laptop. With Kate dressed in black and Chloe in white, the contrast in lighting was already obvious. But add a touch of blue to the streak in Chloe’s hair, and polish up the gold in Kate’s cross necklace, and the piece gained a new layer that distinguished each subject. The blue-streaked punk hanging onto her girlfriend, the golden-haired Christian. A perfect moment of joy.

Max brushed a strand of hair back behind her ear. “Thanks. I’m proud of it, too.”

* * *

“So, Maxine,” said the older woman, who stopped mid-sentence to gesture at Max’s jacket. “Oh, loving this getup, by the way! But I just _have_ to know something.”

Max nodded and took a sip from her glass of white wine. At least she knew she wouldn’t be driving later that night. This older woman was quite a distinguished sort. She even wore a fur-trimmed coat over her dress, and her voice made Max think of the upper-class snooty characters she’d watched in so many Saturday morning cartoons. Yet the name of the art game was making a good sale, so she tried to stay on her current dame’s good side.

Speaking of dames, as Max’s eyes wandered over the gallery, she caught a glimpse of Victoria chatting with another older woman. Judging by the wine-colored dress and her full blonde hair, Max guessed that this might’ve been Victoria’s mother. They’d only met a few times, but Max never had a clear impression of her. Even so, the way Victoria’s eyes lit up while they spoke made Max feel good about this evening. And seeing Victoria happy was a rare sight. She was too used to the bitter girl who lived across from her in the dorms and wrote scathing things on other people’s markerboards.

Turning back to her admirer, Max tried to take a page from the Chase playbook and wear a bright smile. “Of course...” That smile didn’t last long. “I’m sorry. I’m just terrible with names.”

God be praised, the other woman only smiled back. “Sylvia.”

“Sylvia, thank you.” Another bullet dodged there. “How can I help?”

“It’s the title. Is there a deeper meaning behind it?”

“I’d like to think so.” Max took another sip of her wine, and she noticed that it was already half-empty. She needed to chill out, and _fast._ “You, ah, remember the big Supreme Court ruling last month?”

Sylvia’s rosy face lit up. “Oh, yes. Very exciting times we live in, aren’t they, dear?”

“They sure are.” Max turned and waved her hand at the photo mounted on the wall. At _her_ photo, she reminded herself. “Well, that’s part of the story here. It’s called _Love is Strange_ because of the ruling. When most artists want to set up the idea of a romance, they go traditional. A guy and a girl. But like you said, we’re living in some exciting times. So I went with a non-traditional take on love. A _strange_ take, you might say.”

Getting the words out was easier than she’d expected. It didn’t seem possible that, an hour ago, Max had been pacing outside on the cold streets of Seattle, trying to fight back a wave of anxiety and stage fright. But this was a subject Max could discuss because she cared about it so much. And it certainly helped to chat with kind, reassuring older people like the lovely Miss Sylvia. It also didn’t hurt that, as Victoria had explained in their last meeting before the exhibition, affluent people like Sylvia were quick to financially back art galleries like the Chase Space. Max knew this night wasn’t just about her. Messing around with time had cemented that truth into her brain forever.

And if Max could do something for a guest that might help Victoria and her family down the line, then so much the better. She had a feeling there’d be a lot more art shows like this to attend.

Meanwhile, Sylvia had turned to regard the photograph with an appraising eye. “Oh, that’s delightful.” She seemed to have forgotten all about the half-full wineglass in her hand. “And these women you got to model for you? Are they friends of yours?”

Max couldn’t resist a giggle. She clamped her hand over her mouth, and she needed a few seconds to calm down and answer coherently. “Yes! Yes, they... they certainly are!”

Honestly, it wasn’t like half the art world didn’t know already. Social media posts and well-meaning friends from Blackwell had more or less blown the lid on that. But Max had told Kate—had promised her, in fact—that she wouldn’t try to advertise her unusual romantic arrangement. If Sylvia wasn’t going to assume anything, Max wasn’t about to correct her.

“Yes, they seem quite charming,” Sylvia observed. “I’d love to meet them sometime.”

Max opened her mouth to answer, but she stopped when she heard the front door to the gallery open again. Glancing over her shoulder, she smiled.

Chloe entered with Kate more or less hanging off her arm. True to form, Chloe wore a white button-down shirt and blue jeans that weren’t ripped or unwashed. She’d brushed her hair back into a semi-presentable style, but the smirk she wore said she didn’t care for all these well-dressed, respectable folks. Max could practically see her legs twitching for a good old-fashioned mosh pit at the Old Mill. Meanwhile, Kate looked as demure as ever, favoring a blue dress under a dark cardigan. Her eyes lit up when she spotted Max, and she waved enthusiastically, tugging Chloe along like a little kid.

Max waved back. Then, turning around, she added, “Sylvia, I think I can arrange that.”

* * *

The event went late. At close to midnight, most of the older guests had taken their leave, and a few of the younger ones had bounced to hit up some new club near Howell Street. Max hung out near the back of the gallery with Victoria, watching the waiters and staff clean up half-empty wine glasses and half-nibbled chocolates from around the gallery. Someone dimmed the lights, except for the ones over the manager’s desk, where Victoria sat on a stool, going over her guest list with an iPad and a stylus.

“Well, congrats, Max,” said Victoria. “You are officially a celebrity in the art world.” She flashed a smirk. “Give me a few more shows like this, and I’ll be on my way, too.”

Max leaned against the side of the desk. “Oh? I thought your family name might’ve—”

“That’s my parents, Max.” Victoria’s stylus tapped twice against the edge of the iPad. “Not me. Not yet.”

After a pause, Max dropped her eyes to the table. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” Victoria sighed. Then she took one more glance at the list and put down her stylus. A swipe of her finger turned on the tablet’s lock screen. “I’ve... I’ve been a little distracted tonight.”

“Anything you want to talk about?”

“I don’t know.”

“Hey, Victoria. It’s all right.” Max gestured to the gallery, now mostly empty of everyone except for the clean-up crew and Kate, who was still admiring a few paintings. Chloe had taken the time to ask for a smoke break, and Max could still see her outline in the gallery’s front windows. “I think you’re officially done schmoozing for tonight.”

Victoria scoffed. “Please don’t say ‘schmoozing.’ It’s an exhibition, Maxine.”

“I promise not to say it ever again.” Max fell silent for a moment. “If you’ll tell me what’s wrong?”

She said nothing at first, but when Victoria deliberately shoved her iPad and stylus to the far side of the management desk, that little action told Max everything. She went and grabbed another stool, dragging it over so that she could sit at almost eye level with Victoria. The two of them looked out at the bare gallery, illuminated by their own private ring of ceiling lights.

“Do you...?” Victoria cleared her throat. “You remember Nathan?”

“Yes.” Max paused. She heard a gunshot in the distance, praying that she’d only imagined it. “It’s... hard for me to forget him.”

“Right.” A blush spread across Victoria’s face. “Sorry. Must be a sore subject.”

“It’s okay. If I remember right, you and him were... close?”

“I think we were.” Victoria paused, considering her next words carefully. “I thought we were a lot of things, to be honest.”

“You still keep in touch, right?”

“I feel like I’m the only one who does, Max.” With an audible swallow, Victoria crossed  her arms over her chest. Like Max rubbing her neck, it seemed everyone had their own little reassuring gesture. “He’s all alone in prison. I mean, he’s told me he’s getting help. A _real_ therapist. Not the fake ones his parents kept buying off for him. But he’s got a lot of problems to fix. And...”

“And?”

“And he still thinks about Jefferson.” Victoria’s tone had dropped into a slight growl. “I do, too.”

“Oh.” Max didn’t realize it until she felt a pressure on her stomach. When she looked down, she saw that she’d started to press her hands to her gut without thinking. She needed a few deep breaths to keep herself grounded in the moment, just like how Dr. Lexi had told her.

Victoria shivered. “You heard the rumor, right?” Her tone had gone soft again. “When the police found his studio, that creepy underground place? They... they found binders with girls’ names on them.” Closing her eyes, Victoria’s voice went high and tight, and Max had to lean in to hear her. “They said they found a binder with _my_ name on it.”

“I can’t even imagine...” Max trailed off, hoping she sounded disgusted and surprised. She hated having to lie. Not about her revulsion—that was real—but about being surprised.

In her visions of the other timelines, she saw it all too clearly. Remembered it, as it were. Max remembered a version of Victoria, lying on the floor beside her chair. Both of them bound by the hands and feet with duct tape, crying and trying not to panic while they heard that bastard do his work in the other room. She could still hear the terror in poor Victoria’s voice, and Max swore that this wasn’t real. None of it was real. She was in a gallery, not some torture porn studio that Jefferson and Nathan had dreamt up. She was calmly sitting next to Victoria, who was still alive, not sitting over her and crying.

 _In and out, Max,_ she told herself. _Breathe in... breathe out._

After a moment to wipe at her eyes, Victoria let out a shuddering breath. “Does Kate... ever talk about it much?”

“No.” Max hesitated before adding, “She... tries not to think about it anymore. We talked a lot after the news came out, but now she wants to forget that time of her life.”

Victoria nodded. “I’m glad to hear that. She seems happy now.” She sighed and leaned over to rub at her forehead. “I can’t believe I was such a bitch to her back then.”

“I think we all were, to be fair,” Max replied.

When Victoria turned and fixed her with a surprised frown, Max realized how that had come out and held up her hands. “N-not that I think she deserved it. It’s just... we were kids. We were young and stupid. We didn’t realize how much she was hurting inside.”

“Well, thank God she found someone to love.” For a moment, Victoria just watched Kate from afar, smiling fondly the whole time. Then she shot Max a knowing smile. “ _Two_ someones, in fact.”

Max grinned. “What can I say? They’re amazing people, and I couldn’t be happier.”

She almost told Victoria about the storm. For weeks, Max had wanted to tell her the whole story about what caused the storm in Bay City, and about the fate that Jefferson had almost delivered to her. But Max couldn’t bring herself to do it. One look at Victoria’s smile was all the reassurance she needed to keep the truth buried. After jumping and screwing around with time, Max had learned to keep some things to herself. She learned that it was easier to live with the knowledge than to inflict it on others.

In any case, she slept just fine these days.

“It’s just...” Victoria swallowed. “Look, I’m glad you’re with her, Max. Sometimes I think that you and Chloe might be the people Kate needs. You’re undoing what Jefferson and Nathan did to her.” After a pause, she added in a low voice, “And what I did to her, too.”

“You’ve apologized plenty. Trust me, Kate’s already forgiven you.”

Victoria laughed. It wasn’t a pleasant sound. “Well, I guess I haven’t gotten there myself.”

Max considered that for a second. While she was thinking it over, she gazed across the gallery and saw Kate turning around. Their eyes met, and an idea burst inside Max’s head. She grinned, and then she waved for her to come over. Victoria saw this gesture and frowned. She began to slide off her stool, but Max stopped her with a hand to the shoulder.

“Wait right here,” she said. “I... I just want to try something.”

Victoria scowled. “If this is some hipster’s idea of a prank, I swear to God, Max—”

“Settle down, prima donna.” As she got off her stool, Max turned to face Kate. She leaned in close and whispered her idea into the girl’s ear. Kate grinned, and she nodded.

While Victoria looked between them with a severe frown, Max stepped back and reached into her messenger bag. She flashed Kate a wink. “Ready?”

“Ready!” Kate answered.

“Go!”

Before Victoria could stop her, Kate rushed forward and threw her arms around the taller girl. Victoria went stiff, but then her arms reflexively curled around Kate’s tiny form. The awkward smile that hit Victoria’s face only got worse when Max pulled out her camera and snapped a quick photo of the two of them. It took an entire second between the flash going off and the photo sliding out of its tray before Victoria shot Max a death glare to end all death glares.

“I knew it!” she cried. Letting go of Kate, Victoria pushed back her stool and stormed over to Max. “I said no pranks, Caulfield!”

“Trust me, this isn’t a prank.” Max offered only a solemn expression in return. She waited for the photo to fully develop in her hand before she gave it to Victoria. “It’s my next contribution to the Chase Space.”

Victoria’s eyes grew wide. “This?”

When Max didn’t answer, she accepted the photo. Looking down at it, Victoria didn’t react. But after a moment had passed, she pressed a hand to her breast. Her lips parted as she fumbled for a response. “Max, I... I don’t...”

Kate giggled, and Victoria only blushed harder.

“Well, I’m no photographer,” said the other girl, “but I _love_ it.” Kate confirmed her point by leaning over and planting a soft kiss on Max’s cheek.

“Aww, shucks.” Max squeezed her girlfriend’s hand. “You’re a great muse.”

Victoria cleared her throat, drawing their attention. “Well, I’ll bring it up with the gallery owners...” She trailed off, but after another glance at the photo, her face broke out into a tiny smile. Max appreciated seeing that smile more and more. “But, if you ask me, I’m _positive_ they might consider hosting this one, too.”

“Good.” Max folded her arms across her chest. “Because I’m officially dubbing this _Love is Strange No. 2._ ”

Sighing, Victoria dropped her head. She rubbed at her temples, but even with that little move, Max couldn’t miss the smile she flashed both girls. Nor did she miss the affection in the way Victoria muttered, “Of course you would, you hipster.”


End file.
